Shadows
by Kamawe Takami
Summary: Set after Citizen Fang in season 8 (possible spoilers). Due to a witch's curse, Sam, Cas and Benny experience Dean's memories from his childhood and the following years. Slash, read the warnings.
1. Chapter 1

Please, before you proceed to the story, read the author's notes and warnings.

**A/N (1): **First of all, for those who read my other story Checkmate: Don't worry, I haven't abandoned it. I even finished the tenth chapter and sent it to my beta, so it's just a matter of a few days before you get to read it :)

**A/N (2): **This fanfiction deals with some very sensitive topics (check out the warnings) and is slash (Dean/Castiel as a main pairing plus secondary Dean/OMC in the past). If any of those warnings are going to be a problem, don't continue.

The story isn't meant to offend, and the events are going to be described as sensitively as possible.

**Warnings: **Non-con and a suicide attempt are the main warnings. Please, PM me if you want any specifics.

**A/N (3): **I want to thank **Skalidra** for beta reading the story.

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**CHAPTER ONE**

Three insistent knocks startled them, effectively cutting off their planning. Dean reached for his pistol, right hand quick and practiced. He caught Sam's eyes. With a shake of head from his brother, signifying he also had no idea who the late night visitor might be, Dean gripped his gun tighter. It wouldn't help against demons but it was the first thing he had in reach, and the familiarity soothed his very soul. Ivory grips and engraved slide, seven-round magazine. He knew his Colt through and through. He'd had it disassembled many times. Also, it was a gift from his dad. It meant family.

Outside on the parking lot, a car pulled over to their motel. Its headlights sent golden flickers through a narrow gap between the hastily closed curtains, illuminating Sam's tense posture—prepared for a fight—together with Castiel's form hovering above them and the table they were sitting at. The angel hadn't said much for the last couple of hours, content with pacing across the room in a slow motion that could only be registered by a practiced eye.

Cas did that a lot since he'd returned from his retirement with Fred Jones.

For anyone who didn't know Castiel that well, he would appear balanced and settled; yin and yang in one angelic package. Anyone else would say nothing bothered the angel. Anyone but Dean. He knew his friend, and could tell that something was troubling him. The angel may have deceived Sam with his mask of absolute calmness, but there was no way in hell he could pull the same trick with Dean.

Inside, Cas was anything but peaceful. Emotions briefly flashing over his features, turning them angry, confused, and impatient before the tranquil mask would be set firmly back in its place. The exchange was quick and so subtle that even Dean praised himself for noticing it.

The knocks resounded in the quiet room again. This time, it was followed by a gruff voice, "Come on, brother. It's freezing out here."

Dean immediately tossed away his Colt, and was on the way toward the door, when he hesitated. He was glad to hear Benny after so long, even despite the fact he'd shut him out of his life. He missed his friend, and would be happy to open the door and invite the vampire over the threshold. Only the circumstances weren't exactly in favor of a friendly chit-chat. No, because Dean was not alone.

Sending a glance at his brother, who was clutching Ruby's knife determinedly in his big hand, Dean called through the door, "Wait up."

Benny answered with a noncommittal grumble, whereas Sam put on his best bitchface and opened his mouth to protest, or most likely demand a death sentence for the vampire who had done them no wrong. Of course Sam would never trust Benny or take him at his word the way Dean did. And really, Dean didn't hold this against his brother. He'd do the same. However, regarding Dean's experience with Sammy's demonic friends, he was right to be a little—a lot—vigilant. It wasn't Sam's place to question Dean's sanity and ability to willingly trust a vampire.

"He killed Martin," Sam spat, just as he saw Dean's resolve to protect Benny from him. It may have looked like a sound argument for Sam's case, but it only served to piss Dean off even more.

"Martin threatened to kill his great-granddaughter and was a psycho. He had it coming," he retorted back.

Castiel shuffled slightly on his spot beside the cheap plastic table. He said nothing though, and Dean was glad the angel wasn't trying to offer his own opinion for the disagreement. It was no secret that Cas didn't like Benny either. Aside from the obvious _angels and vampires don't get along_ policy the two were like water and fire. They solved everything differently, with completely opposite approaches. They even argued in their own ways. Cas, almost discreetly, with a hint of mockery he so masterly hid beneath an innocent disguise. Benny, openly, frankly insulting his opponent then watching them lose the fight with shameless amusement.

And that was only the start of a long list. When in Purgatory Benny decided to go left, Cas insisted on aiming right. When Benny wanted to resume walking through the night, Cas argued to wait and set a camp, because "Dean needs his rest." However, when the angel suggested on moving, Benny got all concerned with Dean's well-being and demanded a pause. Looking at it in retrospect, the only time they'd agreed on something was when Dean refused to take a break. He was told off by both of them and was forced to rest, eat, or sleep like a damn four year old.

And the days went on in that pattern; they argued, they fought and they pretended the other didn't exist if the matter didn't involve Dean.

Dean stood in the middle, helpless and feeling lost.

The Purgatory trip with the duo vampire and angel had reminded him so much of Sammy and dad, he'd experienced flashbacks and restless sleeps since then. Almost a whole year with wannabes Sam and dad in Purgatory… who wouldn't be excited?

"He didn't have to kill him," Sam hissed, but judging by the followed wince, even he understood how unconvincing it sounded.

Dean narrowed his eyes. This was their life now; endless arguing, throwing the same faults and grudges against each other, repeating and repeating. "You know damn well that if some psycho got in his head to kill you, I'd waste him right where he stood. Wanna call me a murdering freak too, Sammy?"

Sam grimaced. No, he evidently didn't, but it still did nothing to improve his opinion on a vampire dancing freely around. Dean sighed. They would never resolve this because it wasn't about Benny. Sam had never had problems letting monsters off of the leash. He'd begged Dean not to kill Lenore. He hadn't insisted on pursuing Kate either. Benny wasn't the issue here.

It was Dean admitting to trusting a vampire, indirectly choosing him over Sam. It was Dean never forgiving his brother for not looking for him the whole year in Purgatory. It was Dean saying those things aloud, making them real and aiming to hurt. It was also the fake text Dean had sent.

He'd just be happier if Sam took it out on Dean instead of Benny, who had nothing to do with their problems. It was him for whom Sam had left Amelia. It was his fault and Dean knew it, but rather than Sam blaming Dean, here he stood, ready to kill a vampire who did nothing more than help Dean get out of the monster-land.

Dean reached for the door handle. "I'm gonna let him in and if he doesn't jump you, you won't bring out that fancy present from Ruby. Do we have a deal?"

Sam's eyes hardened at the reminder of his screw up with a demon, but he sat down reluctantly, though he didn't hide the knife. He displayed it on the table, since his machete was in the trunk of Dean's baby, and it was his only weapon. Sam needed Benny to know who the one with a weapon was.

Dean rolled his eyes then turned to Cas. "You got any problems?" he asked.

While the angel's face screamed a loud "Yes!" he merely shook his head, replying, "No." At least Cas hadn't forgotten that Benny had saved his life more than once.

Not really satisfied with the tense atmosphere, but at a loss about how to lighten it, Dean opened the door. Benny looked kind of disheveled, and like he hadn't slept in days, but he grinned widely at Dean.

"Dean," he chirped, and his smile grew wider when he noticed the rest of the occupants. Dean let him in hesitantly, keeping a careful eye on Sam. The vampire simply didn't know what was good for him, and wouldn't hesitate to taunt Sam, just to see his reactions. If he did it with Dean, it would end with a truce like they'd just been bickering. With Sam though, it could turn bloody really quickly. Benny strongly underestimated Dean's little brother, and Dean could only hope the vampire wouldn't pay for that mistake in the future.

"Hey, aunt," Benny said to Castiel as he stepped forward, and Dean had to refocus his attention from Sam to Cas, sensing a new threat.

"For one last time," Castiel all but growled, and wow, Dean didn't hear that a lot from his friend. It was a bit frightening. "I am not your aunt."

Benny, again, pretended he noticed no immediate danger and turned his back leisurely to the angel. "Funny as always I gather."

Cas' expression was stricken, like someone ignoring his _ready to smite_ state had never happened to him before. But spending so much time with Benny in Purgatory, Cas should have got used to it already.

The angel turned to Dean and glared at him like it was all his fault, which, okay, it probably was. He was the one to invite Benny inside, even when he'd told him a goodbye over the phone, and he was the one who'd protected the vampire from the angel's wrath on their journey out of the monsterland.

Dean had to redirect his attention again, to the other side of the motel room, when he heard Benny making buddies with Sam, who seemed prepared to decapitate him any second, considering he was gripping Ruby's knife so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Dean was between his brother and friend in two swift steps, and tugged Benny to sit down as far away as possible from Sam and Cas. That meant the bed on the other side of the room. Dean lowered onto the covers first, pulling Benny to follow his lead.

He saw Cas' lips twitch in displeasure. Well, screw him. Benny was his friend, and it was not like Dean could get tainted—or whatever the hell Cas thought—just by sitting close to a vampire. He glared at the angel, satisfied when Cas averted his eyes first.

"What're you doing here, Benny?" Dean asked when the vampire finally sat down, seemingly at ease. Dean knew better. Benny was master of portraying a laid-back behavior while being ready to strike any moment, his eyes darting alternately between exit, potential weapons, Sam, and Cas, whilst he managed a conversation with Dean. It made Dean realize how damn good the man was. He never wanted to find out who would win, if it came down to Sammy and Benny fighting each other.

"I know you cut me off," Benny said defensively, in his thick accent, "I got into trouble and had no idea who else'd be willing to help someone like me… if you know what I mean." He gestured to his mouth where the fangs were hiding.

Sam snorted. "Sure, what can we do for you?" His eyes sparkled dangerously, daring Benny to stand up to him.

"How did you find Dean?" Castiel asked, before Benny could get into a real fight with Sam. Dean didn't confuse it for a desire to help Benny. It was more of a deadly warning that if Cas didn't like the answer, painful consequences would follow.

"Relax, angel," Benny drawled, "I ain't stalking your boyfriend. I got your cellphone tracked," he turned to Dean, smiling in victory at his own achievement.

"You didn't even know what a cell is, and now you can track them?" Dean let out incredulously, his voice interlaced with amusement. He should have probably been at least a little disturbed that he had a stalking vampire on his tail, but this was Benny they were talking about. What did matter the most in this situation, was the presented opportunity to tease his friend for a hidden geeky side afterward.

"Nah," Benny confessed, "I got someone to do it for a few dead presidents."

Sam shot up from his chair. "Are you nuts?" he exclaimed, "Every possible demon is after us. What if they followed you?"

Dean had to give it to his brother. He was right. This was too dangerous, and not just their lives were at stake. Crowley was still searching for Kevin, and together with Mistress Tran and Garth they were the only ones to know his location. But Benny didn't know this, and he had to assume that if he'd called, Dean wouldn't answer his cell. Besides, if Benny was desperate enough to come to him, even over his pride and surely half the continent, it had to be serious.

"Did someone follow you?" Dean asked, he had to be sure before Benny started telling them his story.

Benny looked him in the eye, aggrieved hurt at Dean questioning his skills leaking through the stoic expression. "No," he said firmly. And Dean believed him. Benny was good, and if he was confident no one had tracked him, then no one had tracked him.

"Okay," he replied more softly, happy to see the sparkle return to his friend's eyes. Benny had to be glad that the earned trust hadn't evaporated since they'd split up.

"_Dean!_" Sam's voice carried an apparent disapproval at the ease with which Dean had accepted Benny's word for truth. Castiel's tight expression, hands behind back, body rolling off waves of barely suppressed energy, indicated the same discomfort. Fortunately though, Cas didn't voice his irritation. One bitching Dean could handle. Two would be too much.

"I know what I'm doing, Sam. Trust me," Dean waved off his brother. He didn't expect Sam's demeanor to change, he truly didn't trust Dean with Benny, but it managed to shut his brother up for a few seconds.

Dean returned to Benny. "So what is it?"

"Well…" The vampire looked actually embarrassed. What the hell happened? "Better to let it out all at once, huh?" He joked, suddenly dodging offering an explanation.

"Benny," Dean warned, before Sam came up with a conspiratorial theory of Benny buying time for a squat of demons heading to their motel.

Benny sighed. "This lady came on to me and I told her off." It was said fast and curtly, sounding more like a joke than an actual issue.

Dean raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading his lips. "You told her off?" After years in Purgatory, Benny declined a chick. That was the urgent problem?

The vampire shot him a glare. "She reminded me of someone close."

"Who?"

"Elizabeth."

"Oh." Dean felt like an idiot. And who was he to judge, anyway? He'd been on that godforsaken place for a year and hadn't still banged someone since his return. He should definitely fix that one. "So what happened?" he prompted.

"She turned out to be a witch."

Dean started laughing, couldn't help himself, and it seemed to help brighten the air in the room. Cas' lips twitched for the briefest moment. He probably did it more in reaction to Dean's outburst than to the story, but the smile was there nonetheless, and the angel couldn't deny it. Sammy finally released the knife and left it abandoned on the table. He wasn't smiling, but he finally stopped looking like Benny was gonna try to suck out all his blood any second.

Benny wasn't offended by the laughter, though he didn't join. "She threw a little tantrum and then she cursed me and I don't know what the hell she did—said I'd find out in seven days, the bitch. So I came here. I got no idea what it's gonna be, and I don't want to know."

"Crabs, maybe?" Dean offered, earning himself a nasty glare. "Sorry, man, but this is seriously hilarious." He started chuckling again, which made Benny smile a little despite his situation. With all that was going on these days, it made Dean incredibly grateful to deal with something that wasn't demons or tablets. This one was a good old witch and even though Dean totally hated those bitches, Benny needed his help, and he would get it. He cleared his throat. "So, did you find any hex bags or weird coins on you?" Probably not, otherwise Benny wouldn't have come here seeking for help, but he had to ask.

"Wait a minute, Dean," Sam interrupted. "Are we doing this? I mean—what about Kevin? _The tablet?_" He said the last words in a low, hushed tone as if it was a secret not meant for Benny's ears. Like the vampire would bolt any second, and go and tell on them to Crowley.

"I'm doing this, Sam," Dean retorted, getting angry. "Benny needs help and the last time I checked, not many hunters were eager to help a vampire."

"Exactly!" Sam cut him off. "They're not stupid enough to—"

Cas inclined his head like something had ticked him off. Well, something had definitely ticked Dean off. "You calling me stupid?"

Sam's eyes were wide with surprise. "What? No! I'm just saying we can't abandon everything here just for… _him_." _For a vampire, for a monster, for an intruder who was corrupting Dean…_ these were the implications he stuffed into a one-syllable word with brute force.

Dean crossed his arms over the chest. "Well, you don't have to. I can handle it." The second he spoke, he could see the determination forming on Sam's face. He wouldn't let Dean go by himself, however much he disliked Benny.

"No, I'm coming with you. And so is Castiel. Right, Cas?"

Dean would roll his eyes if he wasn't so angry with his brother. This was ridiculous. He didn't need to be babysat to prevent him from turning all monster, or whatever the hell Sam expected to happen.

He wanted to vocalize his irritation, when Cas stepped directly into his line of sight, suddenly appearing too close for comfort. Dean had to tip his head back so he could look the angel in the eyes from his sitting position. He would stand up but that meant bringing him into his friend's face. Although it was probably better than what he had now nearly in his face.

"I agree," Cas said simply, making Benny grin maniacally. The vampire was taking it all like a huge pile of fun.

Dean turned to Sam, then Benny, then Cas, then Sam again. Their faces only confirmed what he thought was happening. They were not kidding. Just like that, it had rapidly changed from a vacation from the tablet, and closing the gates of Hell, to an unpredictable journey with three asshats growling at each other—with the exception of Sam and Castiel of course, who were making an unspoken gentlemanly agreement to go after Benny together. Suddenly, Dean had a feeling he'd have a much better time being locked up with Crowley for a whole week. Not more, because even he wouldn't make it with his mind intact.

"Yahtzee!" Dean exclaimed, aiming for a fake cheerfulness. Seeing Sammy's shaking head in exasperation, he succeeded. "A road trip with you guys. That's gonna be brilliant."

* * *

"Dean, can I have a word?" Benny asked while Sam and his brother were packing all kinds of things scattered over the room, stuffing them into the duffels. Notes, and newspapers were being nearly crumpled in Dean's hands, whereas all the weapons got special treatment, carefully put in place like a newborn baby into a crib.

Sam shot the vampire a glare, silently disapproving the suggestion. Dean, of course, nodded and left immediately. Before Sam realized his brother had just left him, and Cas, without hesitation to take a walk with a freaking monster, both of them were long gone.

Sam rolled his shoulders to ease the tension building there. It didn't help. How could Dean trust a vampire after everything that went down with Ruby?

"It doesn't disturb you?" he asked the angel, who shuffled closer to the window, looking sharply through the curtains—avoiding the gap between so he wouldn't get spotted—like he could see outside onto the parking lot despite them, which come to think of it, he probably could.

"Yes," Castiel replied absently, "but it is not my place to… judge. The vampire saved Dean many times in Purgatory, and he did the same for me." His eyes roved, certainly following Dean and Benny's moves. How he was able to do that was beyond Sam.

"Yeah," he huffed, "'cause Dean would kill him if Benny failed to protect you."

Castiel kept hypnotizing the parking lot behind the curtains. His eyes narrowed as if he didn't like what he was seeing outside. "Perhaps," he admitted. "Although I think it was more of his loyalty to Dean rather than a fear of him."

Being with Cas alone for the first time made Sam remember a question he wanted to find an answer to. Dean had told him, but shortly and subjectively. Sam would like to hear a different point of view. "How was it there… in Purgatory?"

Castiel let out a small sigh. He had to have been awaiting this. "It was… defined," he said finally, eyes never leaving the parking lot. Sam wasn't sure he understood, but let the angel continue without interrupting him. "For me, it was hard. Leviathans pursued me wherever I hid. I perceived it as a punishment set upon me. For Dean…" Cas paused, a haunted shadow crossing his eyes. "It was worse for Dean. He was alone and he was a human. It was difficult for him to protect himself, and not only Leviathans were attempting to kill him. His soul shined within many miles. He was a perfect prey for the creatures which hadn't tasted a human in decades, centuries."

Sam shivered, guilt eating at him. He should have searched for his brother. He should have been there when Dean needed him. But he hadn't, and Dean had to rescue himself. Whatever Sam let on display when they'd talked about Purgatory, it wasn't the immense guilt he felt for abandoning his brother. True, Sam had been alone. He didn't know what to do, everyone dead or gone, and he'd been… scared. Yes, he'd been scared, and instead of helping Dean or Kevin, he fled. He'd run and hadn't looked back.

"I left Dean the minute we ended up in that unholy place, to protect him from the Leviathans. Only now I can see it for the mistake it was." Cas turned away from the curtains and was now looking at Sam with pleading eyes, like he was asking for forgiveness. Sam would gladly give him it, was he not the last person who was eligible to do so, given the fact that he himself had left Dean.

"If it wasn't for the vampire, Dean would have been dead," Castiel continued. "So even if I don't approve of the friendship, it is not my place to say it."

* * *

Dean leaned against the boot of his baby. It was dark outside, and only a street lamp and the motel's neon sign announcing "Skyline Motel" to the world with blinking intensity were sending colorful lights over the parking lot. Benny's features were hidden in the shadows, edges of his beard and cap tinged with green and red slivers painted by the sign's lights. He looked like a dark version of a clown; not Joker yet but getting there.

"I'm sorry I barged in here," Benny said honestly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"And I'm sorry for ditching you over a cell," Dean countered with a small apologetic smile. The decision not to stay in touch with Benny when Sam was involved was the right thing to do. Dean, however, regretted severing all ties with him—the guy who'd saved Dean countless times.

Benny smirked. "Yeah, broke my heart," he replied with a hint of a playful sarcasm.

Dean grinned. He truly missed his friend. "It's good to see you again." He pulled Benny into his arms, hugging him tightly. Benny reciprocated the action with the same amount of enthusiasm, although he held him more gently. He'd always handled Dean with care, like something that could break easily. Even when they fought—which was a lot in the beginning—he'd never used his full vampire strength on him. Dean was both grateful and pissed at Benny for it. Dean Winchester was not going to break if some vampire fought him with all he had. On the other hand, he was glad he didn't have to nurse any broken bones or bruises after their fights. And thinking about it, every monster, demon or angel had to be taking humans as weaklings made of ceramic. So it was nothing personal, merely a power dynamic in practice.

When he released Benny, the vampire patted his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You look tired," he commented.

Dean tilted his head back, thinking through his answer. He looked at the winking stars above. They made him feel so small. "Remember when I told you about Crowley?" They'd had a lot of silent time in Purgatory that they'd filled with telling each other some of their stories.

Benny's lips twitched up. "You mean the 'arrogant asshole who thinks he's funny when he really isn't'?"

"Yep, that one," Dean confirmed with a smile of his own. "He's making problems again." He paused, before continuing hesitantly, "And then there's Sammy…" At that, Dean stopped altogether. It was hard to think about it, let alone talk, make it more real than it was in his head.

Benny frowned. "You know you can tell me anything."

Dean glanced toward the motel's windows, quickly finding the one belonging to their room. He felt someone watching him, but decided not to dwell on it. It was just a feeling. He was on edge 24/7 since he'd returned from Purgatory. "I know," he sighed, "it's just... complicated."

"Family always is," Benny said.

Dean laughed quietly, trying in vain to mask the bitterness in his voice. "Amen to that."

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Thank you for reading the first chapter :)

**Please review** and tell me if it's worth continuing. Constructive criticism is welcomed but don't flame.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! Thank you for your great support and here's the next chapter :)**

**I am sorry it took so long but for my defence, English isn't my first language, so I take my time to create all the sentences I need for the story. Then I read them over and over again, checking for mistakes, then I re-read them again (oh yeah, I'm that crazy :D), then again, again, and then I finally send the chapter to my awesome beta (all praise Skalidra!).**

**As a peace offering, this chapter is longer than the first one :)**

**To a guest reviewer Whatsmynamebro(love the nickname): Thank you so much! You totally made my day! I couldn't stop grinning like an idiot after reading your review :) Hope, you enjoy this chapter as well.**

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**CHAPTER TWO**

"A stripper," Dean repeated, for what felt like the hundredth time. He still had trouble processing the fact.

Benny rolled his eyes.

"_A stripper_," Dean let out once more, making sure the conversation was really about what he thought it was about. "You went into a strip club and declined a stripper? Dude, you can't visit a strip club and refuse a stripper when she comes on to you. That's against the rules!"

"Against which rules?" Sam snickered.

Dean threw out his hands. "Against every rule! It's like going to Burger King and not ordering a burger."

"Who's Burger King?" Benny asked.

Dean groaned. "You're killing me, man."

"It's a chain of fast food restaurants serving hamburgers that Dean enjoys. I believe he favors 'The Big King sandwich," Castiel offered in explanation, his undeniably happy tone suggesting the pleasure of being able to contribute to the conversation.

"Nice," Sam chuckled, "walking Deancyclopedia."

The angel frowned, confused. "I do not—"

"Don't listen to him, Cas," Dean said. "He's pulling your leg."

"He's not—"

"Not that I don't enjoy the cutely domestic thing that's gonna melt all my teeth, but can we deal with the small and insignificant problem of mine first?" Benny interrupted impatiently, the words interlacing together as they drawled lazily through his lips, ruining their chances to confuse Castiel more thoroughly. Pity.

"Oh, right." Dean turned to the vampire with a sly smile. "Your refused burger."

Benny sighed in resignation. He was giving up, Dean noted delightedly. Good. The vampire deserved a little tormenting for taunting Sam and Castiel, for encouraging their antipathy toward him, and for that all causing Dean's upcoming headache. "I wanted to… buy a burger, only not a _familiar _one."

Dean grinned more maniacally, reaching behind over his seat, and clapped Benny on the shoulder. "You stud! I knew there was something hiding under those suspenders of yours."

Their Scooby-Doo team—how Dean secretly called them in his mind—were sitting in the Impala, Sam riding shotgun, which had left Benny together with Cas in the backseat. The angel had started a staring contest with the vampire somewhere after the first mile of their journey, and hadn't ended it till they pulled over onto a parking lot in front of the strip club, their unexpected final destination.

Dean had asked Cas to fly them to the place, but the angel very maturely refused to touch a vampire, thus they'd ended up in a car on the longest drive of Dean's life.

Castiel's mouth formed a thin, displeased, line. "Can we focus on our task?"

Dean smirked, looking back toward the monster they were about to kill. The witch was, in one word, hot; lean body, long legs, and boobs that screamed breast implants or, well, magic. Scrunching up eyes to view her like Benny would, the hair color kind of resembled Elizabeth's, but Dean doubted he'd even think of Benny's great-granddaughter while being with this chick. However, that was probably solely his fault. For him, nearly all the women were alike, so he'd never noticed a few small similarities between two of them.

Dean sweet-talked the women, slept with them and forgot them. That was it, no-brainer.

The witch was currently flirting with some guy at the entrance to the club, and pretty soon, the dude was eagerly nodding and letting himself be pushed into a backside deserted alley.

The choice of rendezvous played in their favor—out of sight, and private; perfect for killing.

Since Benny confirmed he hadn't found any hidden hex bags or coins, the curse had to be something deeper that stuck directly onto the victim. The only way to break this kind was to either destroy the creator, or make them cancel it. Negotiation wasn't an option. First of all, it was hard to achieve when the other is trying to tear you into shreds, which was how every monster they'd ever met reacted to an attempt for small talk, and secondly—let's face it—killing was way easier than reasoning.

"Okay, let's go," Dean said, getting out of his baby.

A familiar thrill tingled low in his belly, announcing the first spikes of adrenaline always preceding a fight. Usually, the more dangerous the situation they were about to get in was, the more intense the tingling became.

This time, it was a light, almost gentle sensation, meaning Dean wasn't afraid of losing. After many months, _years_, he was confident in their winning, and it had an incredible, warm effect on his whole person, easing the ever-present tension down a bit. Sam's sharp but calm eyes mirrored Dean's state of mind, adding to the lightness. They had an angel and a vampire on their side. The witch didn't have the slightest chance. Even the powerful Roses would have a hard time taking them down, and Dean doubted even they would be able to. Benny, they could beat, but Cas?

What was sprawling inside him wasn't cockiness or over-confidence, it was the feeling of an assurance Dean was experiencing alongside his friends, a certain sense of safety. It was something he'd nearly forgotten, and he basked in it, the taste welcomed.

He had to smile unconsciously because Benny gave him a raised eyebrow. Together with a man passing them on his way inside the club, and nearly colliding with him, it pulled Dean back to now and here. He became aware of all the tiny details of his surroundings, the unstable joy quickly giving way to a prickle of uneasiness. The exchange was quick, unexpected; just like it had always been. One minute, he was good, really good, the next second, _bang!_ It went down; one endless rollercoaster.

The night breeze felt suddenly chilling against his skin, not caressing it but rather stinging like thousands of needles would. Loud drums penetrated through the otherwise still place, drunken laughter could be heard in the distance, and it was all too familiar to cause coldness to creep up Dean's spine. Like a noose, it twisted itself around his neck, making every gulp for air difficult.

Dean shook the tightness off. It had happened before. He knew how to cope.

It was still annoying.

They rounded the corner and stepped into a dark, filthy alley. Dean didn't have much time to assess the place before freezing. He had prepared himself for every possible outcome, but he honestly hadn't expected the witch to be facing them, holding the poor bastard before her like a human shield, a small silvery dagger to his neck. She had either known they were coming, or had spotted them.

They hesitated. A mere two, three seconds, but it was still enough. The witch grinned, showing her perfect white teeth, and didn't do anything more than wink at them. An invisible energy struck Dean like a massive wall, tossing his body through the air. He crashed against a wall, his head making a nasty cracking sound. Instead of gravity taking him down, his hands, legs and body were pinned to the hard surface behind, leaving him helplessly hanging, back to the wall. His bones were cracking under the pressure but he managed to turn his spinning head to see Sam and Benny were met with the same fate on the opposite side.

Castiel—unaffected by the fierce power—stepped forward, ready to fly over to the witch.

But then, he stopped.

The witch's smile turned brighter. "Smart choice, angel," she purred in a sweet voice. The dagger in her hand pressed firmer against the man's neck, drawing a trickle of blood. The guy wept like a child but didn't try to escape; mind, body, or both paralyzed.

Dean wiggled against the unseen grip but it didn't ease a bit. He hated being unable to move. "Cas?"

"You see," the witch addressed them, shaking with the man in her arms. She was either somehow really strong or was using the same power on the guy as on them. "I've provisionally bound my life to this idiot's soul. I die, he dies. Or, your angel tries to touch me, and I snap your lovely necks in a second... all… at... once." She waited for the words to sink in then smirked. She was enjoying herself. "Yep, I'm that good."

That at least explained Cas' hesitation. He was able to read minds, see into people. He had to sense the bond, or her intentions.

Benny should have mentioned the witch was so powerful… although considering his low experience with modern monsters, he probably didn't realize. It wasn't his fault. That didn't mean Dean wasn't gonna scold him later for the fatal mistake.

He could have kicked himself now for his earlier thoughts. He'd let his guard down. They had all underestimated her just like he and Sam had done with the Roses. One would think they'd learned from their mistakes.

"What do you want?" Sam gritted through his teeth, struggling against the force holding him in place.

The witch raised an eyebrow. "For one, I don't want you to kill me. For two…" She paused, pretending to think hard. "Hmmm… Nah, that's it. I just don't want to get killed."

"Then let the guy go and we won't follow you," Sam offered, like they were talking business, like they were in a position to make any demands.

Dean wanted to protest, remind his brother of Benny and his curse, but the witch was shaking her head before Sam even finished. "I don't think so. No offence, honey, but I don't believe you. You're hunters after all… the Winchesters, right?"

Wow, they were really famous. Dean squirmed again, trying to set his limbs free. Of course it was futile. He felt like a damn bird in a cage, smashing into the walls, thinking the metal would give way. He was just as stupid.

"You wanna signed autograph?" he bit out, immediately regretting he'd opened his mouth, when all eyes turned to him, scrutinizing, unwished for. They were seeing him in such an exposed state, while he couldn't defend himself, stuck against the wall, left at the mercy of everyone who would want to hurt him. He wanted them gone.

He put more effort into his struggling against the invisible bonds. Nothing happened.

The witch's eyes were the ones making him most uncomfortable. It was like with Cas sometimes, like she looked into him and _saw_.

The piercing brown orbs ticked a few times between him and Sam. The witch grinned widely. "Oh my, this is just too perfect," she chirped, making Dean's blood run cold. He should have just shut up and made Sam deal with the situation. Little brother had demanded a more dominant role in the hunting. Dean should have given it to him.

"What is—" he started but his mouth was snapped shut.

"Sammy," the bitch told his brother, "you're going to love this and it'll get me the time I need to get away. It's up to you then what you'll do with my gift. You run the show now, sweetheart."

She raised her empty left hand. The man remained in front of her, unmoving, the dagger cutting a bit more into the skin of his throat. Energy crackled through the air, making it heavy. The imaginary noose around Dean's neck, always there, restricting, tightened to the point of pain. He couldn't breathe, his lungs tried to uselessly take in fresh air. They couldn't, and his head felt dizzy. If the force wasn't holding him straight, he would have toppled over.

A white light burst within the alley, pain erupted inside Dean's head and, his mouth finally able to open, he screamed as if his life depended on it, and maybe, it did. His name was being yelled with a desperate urgency. From all three voices, only one clear like always. Cas' baritone pierced through his fogged brain, and the angel's voice was the last thing Dean heard before he lost consciousness.

* * *

Sam startled as, after the intense light, blackness surrounded his whole body and mind. It sucked him in and spat him out in seconds that lasted an eternity.

_"You run the show now." _echoed in his ears. He whipped around, trying to take in his surrounding as fast as possible, before something would jump up on him from the dark corners of the alley. Thoughts hazy, he forced his eyes to focus, to work, to search for Dean.

His heart was beating heavily, thumping as if it planned on tearing through his ribcage. One distinct image was burnt into his eyelids, and every time he blinked, Dean was there, screaming like something tore at the insides of his body, trashing helplessly within the unyielding grasp of energy holding him against the wall.

He still heard it, the scream. It was roaring in his ears.

Sam evened his wheezy, panicked, breaths. He had to think.

He really looked around. The setting was the only thing right, but it seemed to be another alley, not the one in which they'd been held by the witch. What the hell had happened?

"What is this?" Benny's voice asked from behind. Sam's head spun in the direction of the sound, spotting Castiel as well. It was dark, darker than before, and thus hard to make out the angel's expression. No street lamp was here to bring a light onto his features. Despite that, Sam made out the narrowed eyes, the angry clench of jaw. Whatever storm was stuffed inside the angel was hanging by a thread, on the verge of exploding.

Sam took a look around one more time but everything stayed the same way. The dumpsters remained on their places, stinking of decayed food and whatever people had thrown into them. Together with the reek of vomit and urine, it made his stomach roll.

That's where the similarity with the former alley ended.

Drums of a heavy music from behind a black door—nearly merging with one of the dark buildings—were muffled, though still shaking the foundation of the street and an opposite house. It was the sort of club where people came to get drunk or laid, possibly both; big, offering anonymity, and loud because one didn't need to hear what the other was saying as long as they were willing to get out with them.

"I'm not sure," Castiel replied for him, thank God, because Sam had other problems to deal with than answering Benny. For example, where the hell was his brother?

"Where's Dean?" he asked, keeping his tone calm, not allowing fear to seep through. "And the witch? What happened?"

He felt like breaking down. He'd lost his brother somewhere, or more likely the three of them got lost because he didn't recognize this place. Panic was rising within him, threatening to steal his last coherent thoughts. He willed it down with sheer force. Freaking out would not help in finding Dean.

"Great questions," Benny growled. "Don't know if ya noticed but this feels weird."

Sam brought his eyebrows together. "What'd you mean?"

Castiel reached out with his hand toward one of the dumpsters. It went through the solid metal sheet like he were a ghost. Or the dumpster was a ghost, but that seemed improbable. Sam watched the motion, horrified. Did that mean they were dead? How else could it be explained?

No, Sam shook his head. He needed to calm down, to look at this rationally. Castiel and Benny were here with him, so death couldn't be the cause here. Angels and monsters didn't just _die_ like that, with souls wandering around. More importantly, angels didn't even have souls. But then, how else could this be explained?

Sam stroked the denim of his jeans. They were here. He was here. The fabric between his fingertips wasn't imaginary. He smelled the alley, the stink enveloping it. It wasn't his mind playing tricks. It was a reality… a reality excluding him, Castiel and Benny.

"Holy hell," the vampire let out, and went to try to poke the dumpster as well. Sam was tempted to join them, when the backdoor from the bar opened with a loud bang, bringing the thrums of the music to them with more intensity. The guy—kid in Sam's mind—that stumbled out of the club seemed to be around twenty, head hung low, and drunk out of his ass. He tripped over the threshold and nearly fell down. Sam reached out to steady the kid only to realize he couldn't when his hand went through the clothes, right into the kid's body. Sam shrank away like he'd been burnt.

The kid steadied himself against the wall, muttering, "Fucking asshole." and with that, Sam understood with a painful clarity.

"What is it?" Castiel neared him, followed tightly by Benny who took a place on the other side of Sam.

Sam ignored them, his heart gaining frantic speed again. He was too stunned to react. Because—because if he was right… no, this couldn't be possible, could it? It was absurd. The witch had been powerful, no arguing about that, but no one could be that powerful except for the angels, maybe. She was just a witch, wasn't she?

Then the kid raised his spiky head and Sam saw the emerald green, darkened by the night. "Dean…" he breathed, making everyone, everything stop dead.

"Dean?" Benny's voice held a sliver of fear as well, masked by gruffness.

Castiel said nothing but his body tensed even more than was usual.

"Does this happen to you regularly? Is it just me who finds it weird?" Benny asked. He didn't sound amused. He sounded horrified, and Sam understood him completely. He felt the same way. It was probably the first time Sam agreed with the vampire on something—particularly on not liking what was happening.

"No, it's not just you," he replied, shooting a quick glance at Castiel. "Did we travel back in time?"

Cas tilted his head, sailing with a hand through the air. "This isn't a time travel. That is different. This feels more… like a memory," he concluded, bringing Sam to stare at him, hard. The angel had to be joking, right?

Benny rubbed the top of his cap. "Is that even possible?"

"I can think of no other explanation."

The younger version of Dean bent over and started throwing up, creating a new addition to the grossness of the street, and redirecting the attention back to him.

"If this' a memory, then kid was a wild one," Benny smirked, making purposely light of the situation, probably trying to disperse his own worry. Because this? Was not normal.

"Yeah, he was," Sam said. Playing along while figuring a way out was something like a Winchester specialty. Nonetheless, he allowed the stirring affection to warm his voice. Dean had always been a party man, and since their dad was most of the time on the other side of the continent, Dean would get away with most of his stunts. It had naturally served to encourage him more, and while he'd taken care of Sam like the proper mother hen he was, he'd often gotten himself wasted at a party or bar, got into fights, or Sam would see him promenading around with some hot girl from school. How Dean had managed to squeeze all that in his generally busy days was beyond Sam.

The Dean in front of him mumbled something close to "Gross.", furiously wiping his mouth with a sleeve of his worn jacket.

Sam couldn't help but comment, "Yeah, Dean. You drink too much, you puke afterwards. First rule you've ever taught me." Benny chuckled and Sam was again reminded of his and Cas' presence by that noise.

"I would say it was based on a personal experience," Castiel said in his deadly solemn tone and Benny laughed out loud.

"And you say ya don't have a sense of humor."

Castiel cocked his head to one side. "I've never implied such a thing."

Sam's lips twitched up in response whilst Dean paid them no attention, straightening up as much as he could with the help of leaning on the dumpster. He gripped the edges tightly, legs buckling underneath him, and Sam had to suppress the urge to go over and try in vain to help his brother. Dean, fortunately, managed to stay on his feet without any aid, and made a slow, unsteady round around the dumpster, ending on the side facing away from the main street. It effectively hid him in the shadows.

Sam went to him and knelt down. Dean was resting his back against the brick wall, staring ahead right through Sam. For him, no other people were here in the alley. Sam felt oddly guilty, like he was invading his brother's privacy. It was ridiculous, of course. He knew everything there was to know about Dean. He had grown up with the man, after all. Seeing him throwing up after visiting a club shouldn't feel like a betrayal.

However, none of it made him feel any better about watching Dean now.

It might have been caused by the strange, defeated look in his eyes. It was a look Sam had never seen before, and it made him nervous.

Sure, he'd seen Dean looking defeated before. For instance when he'd considered saying yes to Michael, or after Bobby had died. It was the same kind but yet, it differed. This one Sam was looking at was peaceful, accepting; like Dean knew he'd lost a fight but didn't care… welcomed it, even. He looked forward to the opening it provided.

It was disturbing.

Then something shifted in his brother's gaze and Sam gasped in shock, realizing what would happen seconds before it did happen. He could swear the sound echoed around the walls.

Dean naturally didn't hear it. He pulled up his shirt, revealing his old revolver tucked under the waistband. He took it gently in his hands, cradling it like something precious, as if trying to memorize every curve, every angle of the gun. Sam stared, feeling all the breath rush out of his lungs. His lips parted, eyes had to be wide. His brain tried to catch up with the events, frozen.

He realized he forgot to breathe when Benny's voice brought him back. "What is he—"

"I don't like it," Castiel stated. "I can sense an archangel here."

Sam's head would snap up if he wasn't hypnotized, watching his brother watching the gun like he was contemplating—and Sam was so not going there. Dean would never. He was just drunk and fascinated with the weapon. He had always treated guns like they were special.

"An archangel?" Benny asked instead of him. Sam was glad for it. He was unable to form a whole sentence in his mind, let alone send it past his lips. He was paralyzed just like the witch's hostage, terrifyingly transfixed by the scene evolving in front of him.

"It's a faint trace but I believe an archangel in some way affected this night's events. I feel his presence," Cas explained. Sam didn't see him but his voice was strained, and Sam would bet everything that the angel's eyes were glued to Dean as well.

"C'mon," Dean slurred, tearing himself and others from the trance. He brought the revolver up, and a strained sound escaped Sam's throat as his brother—his one true hero from childhood—put the tip of the gun right into his mouth, closing eyes, breathing forcefully evenly. In, out, in, out. His hands were the only indicator of nerves. They trembled, just like Sam's did, when he pulled the hammer back. The clicking sound of metal was deafening.

Benny let out a strangled, "Shit," and Cas took one step forward.

"Oh my God," Sam breathed in panic. Logically, he knew Dean hadn't pulled the trigger. His future self was alive after all, so this Dean would certainly change his mind. But his heart still raced like he was sprinting for dear life, and he had to remind himself to take a deep breath before hyperventilating just from the one thought that Dean had considered ending his life. He'd considered leaving him and Dad behind. He hadn't cared for the consequences, what it would do to them. That it would kill them as well. Sam shuddered.

It wasn't fucking fair.

Although…

Dean had to care because he was alive, right? He had to realize any second that killing himself wasn't worth any of his problems, and wouldn't solve anything. He had to come back to his mind—

Dean squeezed his eyes tightly and pulled the trigger. Sam fell backwards as the thunderous click resounded through the alley. Nothing happened though. Dean opened his eyes and pulled again, hammer, trigger, hammer, trigger, the exchanges fast, efficient, but followed by nothing but clicking sounds, no bullets coming out. Sam's heart quickened as Dean did it again, again, and again.

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

Sam flinched every time the gun failed its purpose. His mind was numb, stuck, frozen; dead. Dean would have killed himself. Dean would have left them. Dean would have—

Dean took the revolver out of his mouth and glared at it, accusing it, like it didn't work just to mock him. His breaths were now uneven, heavy, a furious energy steadily building inside his shaking body. "Fuck," he swore. "Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ fuck!_"

He jumped up onto his wobbly legs and threw the gun against the opposite wall with an unexpected power. It crashed and fell.

It didn't seem enough. Sam watched from the ground as his brother turned around and hit the brick wall with a brutal force, his knuckles cracking. He did it over and over, and Sam could do absolutely nothing but stare, equally horrified and drawn to the scene. It was a raw pain that radiated out of Dean and brought his fist against the wall. The bricks turned bloody just as did his hand, and Dean didn't care, continuing in this insanity.

Sam couldn't watch. He turned his head away, afraid to witness more, panting, blood rushing to his ears like Dean's rushed to the wounds on his hand. He saw Castiel, his eyes widened, sheer dread deadening the blue of his eyes. He saw Benny, features stoic, expression closed off so no one would see the true pain for his friend hidden beneath. Two opposites, good and evil, two spectators of Dean's heartbreaking state, and Sam couldn't, couldn't become the third one. It was too much.

All the while, the one important sentence circled his mind. _Dean would have abandoned them. _He didn't care about Sam, about Dad. Damn, he didn't care about Bobby. He had been willing to throw his life away, not looking back.

The thought made Sam angry—the feeling caused by fear, mingling with it so every difference vanished until there was none, until anger and fear became one.

Then he heard the most wrecking sob escaping Dean's mouth. It brought him involuntarily back to his brother. It couldn't have not. Dean was crying; so much that his body shook violently with the devastated sounds. He stopped punishing the bricks and slid down the wall, getting to his knees. The loud music seemed to withdraw, giving room to the keening sounds, every one of them killing Sam just a bit more. The bloody hand rested against the ground, leaving small red smears in its trail.

Sam thought to all times Dean had cried in front of him. He remembered none. His brother had always acted so strong, his firmly built façade unwavering. When Dean broke down, he did so inside, where no one could see. It was a matter of pride, the damn fucking pride.

And now, here he was, crying his pain out, thinking he was safely hidden in the shadows. He looked so fragile, vulnerable, like he could break under a simple touch. Sam wasn't used to this side of Dean. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for this sight, for the ache of his heart. None of John Winchester's sacred rules could have taught him how to _deal_.

"Is this—" His voice came out raspy. He tried again. "Is this real?" He sounded like a child, he was well aware of it. And he didn't care.

Sam didn't turn his head either, letting the question hang in the air. He wasn't sure he even wanted to hear the answer, because… what if this w_as_ real? What would happen next? How could he look Dean in the eye ever again and not see _this_?

As predicted, nor Cas nor Benny answered.

Dean took a shuddering breath, attempting to calm down. Sam inhaled together with him, synchronizing the rise and fall of their chests. It was the only connection he was able to establish with his brother. Dean's face streamed with wetness as he lied down onto the filthy ground, his eyes dull despite the previous events, exhausted, his arms spread out.

Sam reached out desperately. He wanted to touch his brother's body, resignation written all over his beautiful face. And his brother was beautiful. Sam had only never really paid attention to it. Now though, in this moment when the time seemed to stop, waiting patiently for the humans' next moves, it couldn't be ignored. Dean's eyes shone in the dark, submitting to his fate, the stars reflecting in his eyes, creating a depth Sam could drown in. It was breathtaking.

Sam's fingers found Dean's, resting only millimeters away, and Sam was sure he could feel the electric jolts linking the almost non-existent distance between them. It was surreal.

Dean started singing; small, broken sounds that grew stronger with each syllable but never reached more than a whispering level, like he was afraid of a stranger overhearing the tones of his personal darkness. Sam's hands rooted to the ground. They pressed against the coldness, the roughness of the cement beneath even though they shouldn't be able to, the weight of his brother's pain coming to crush down, making Sam conscious of his body and of things that weren't truly there.

It helped a bit but it wasn't enough.

He wanted to dig his fingers into his legs. He'd felt the denim, he would surely feel the pain as well, and it would balance Dean's. However, it wouldn't be fair to his brother. It'd lead Sam's thoughts away from Dean to concentrate on the physical hurting, and Sam had to focus his whole being on Dean, now. He wouldn't allow any detail to pass him.

The song Dean was whispering was slow, its style nothing like his brother listened to, and Dean went through the words with an alien softness, articulating carefully, not hurrying, making it last. It was important and personal, and Sam craved to know the origins of Dean learning these words.

_In the shadow of the moon, _

_She danced in the starlight._

Dean had always possessed a nice voice, and when he'd sometimes forgotten himself, Sam noticed the flawless and quality. Then, it had been caused by Dean's good moods. Now, it was driven by pure fundamental emotions, and it was mesmerizing though crashing with its sadness. It was so horribly beautiful. Sam wanted to sink down next to Dean and not ever leave his brother's side.

He tuned out the words and simply listened to the soft voice. Neither Benny nor Castiel said anything, had to be doing the same as Sam. It was fascinating how they stopped fighting for a moment just to participate and offer their grief together with Sam. He would have laughed at the absurdity, but he then heard the next verse and choked on it, his heart breaking just a bit more.

_Feeling lonely, feeling sad,_

_She cried in the moonlight._

Dean's voice stayed low and slow, telling a secret no one else should listen to. He continued singing, tears running down his temples to the spiked hair. Eyes remained wide, innocent, gazing at the star-scattered night sky. Sam felt wetness on his own face and he wiped it off angrily. Here wasn't the place to break down, now wasn't the time. He should have been here when Dean needed him the most. He should have taken care of his brother. He should have done lots of things much, much differently.

_Feel no sorrow, feel no pain, _

_Feel no hurt, there's nothing gained… _

_Only love will then remain—_

Dean stopped abruptly, bringing them yet again from another trance. He frowned at the night. It was the same gesture he'd done before he took out the damn revolver. It meant Dean had remembered—was about to do—something vital, and Sam prayed it was nothing bad this time. He wouldn't be able to see more of his brother's pain.

Dean grabbed his cellphone from a pocket and speed-dialed a number. From his position, Sam could see it saved under number one. That had to be Dad.

A wave of indescribable relief washed over him. Sam had often disagreed with the man but he couldn't deny that their father was a man of action. He would know what to do with Dean. He would help… unlike Sam, who was doing whatever the hell was so damn more important than being here with his big brother... big… looking so small now.

Sam bent down so he'd hear the conversation. Dean waited as the phone beeped several times, licking his lips nervously, before a voice spoke up on the other end of the line with a hint of a surprise, "D?"

It wasn't Dad's voice, although it was male. Sam cast a questioning look toward Castiel, because frankly, there was no one else besides Benny he could make eye contact with, and he needed a reassurance that everything was going to be alright. That when they somehow got back, Dean would be there, smiling like the big dumbass he could sometimes be, telling them this was all just a sick joke.

But Castiel didn't return his look, watching Dean from his standing, stiff position the whole time; sadness, anger and even the same kind of guilt eating at Sam for not being here with Dean mingling across his face. The turmoil was evident on the angel's otherwise unreadable features and was hard to look at.

Dean's uncertain voice shoved him into the moment. "Yeah… hey, listen…" Another lick on his lips… a nervous and unconscious motion. "Can I, uh, come over?"

It was followed by a stretched silence, then, "What the fuck have you done?"

Dean gulped, lashes fluttering over his eyes. "N'thing, just the usual… He, he left, y'know. You were right when you told me I would… that it would…"

The usual? Who left? Who was the stranger Dean was spilling his heart to? Sam leaned closer. He needed to hear everything, was desperate for it. Why would his brother act like this? Why would he try to end his own damn life?

Only the ground underneath his fingertips started melting, vanishing. The darkness grew thicker, encircling them all, and then came the tug, the cruel pull taking him away from his brother. "No, no, no…" he pleaded with whoever would listen. He needed to know more, he needed to know everything there was to know. But the pull didn't ease. It grew stronger and began chewing him, making him smaller and smaller till there was nothing of him.

When he could breathe again, everything around him exploded. He smelled real fresh air, now being able to point out the tiny difference. There was a solid ground under his boots.

Sam opened his eyes. They were at the previous alley, the same place from which the witch had escaped. Dean was no longer a teenager, being his age again, lying unconscious a few feet away from them.

The guy taken hostage was gone together with the witch.

Castiel was the first to jump into action, getting to Dean in one fast move that couldn't have been human. Benny followed tightly, kneeling down next to Dean, checking for his pulse. "He's breathing," the vampire rasped. His voice sounded like he hadn't used it in years.

Sam watched it all like in a dream, where everything was hazy and not making any sense. He stood there, unable to move, his mind still processing the events and what they had seen, failing. It had been too horrific to be a truth, but at the same time it had felt too realistic to be a lie.

Benny looked around, checking if the witch was truly gone. "We should take him to the motel. It's not safe out here." He made a move to gather Dean in his arms and carry him but Castiel's power shoved him ferociously back.

"Don't touch him," the angel warned in a barely controlled tone. Benny merely held his hands up in a response, like he was used to this kind of treatment, and watched as Cas lifted Dean effortlessly up. Placing one arm around his back and the other under the knees, he brought him up like a newly-wed getting carried over the threshold.

Castiel cocked his head slightly, as if listening to something, then told them, "A motel Green Lantern is three streets over from here, pay for room number 29. It's vacant." A rustle of wings followed and just like that, he was gone together with Dean.

Sam stared at the empty space where the angel had been just seconds ago, his brain going into overdrive. Everything that had happened… Dean… the revolver… the strange guy on the telephone… Castiel's gentle hands on his brother…

Benny smacked him on the shoulder, squeezing softly, quickly, like he was trying to reassure him that everything was going to be fine but didn't quite know how to do so; didn't quite know he believed it himself.

"Come on, chief. We need to get going."

* * *

**Please, review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi, guys! Sorry for the wait. Here's the third chapter. The next one will be up in two or three days, so I don't make you wait too long again :) ****Huge thanks to Skalindra for beta reading 3**

**To Amelli-kara: Thank you for your awesome review! I'm happy you like my story :)**

**To catbean715: Thank you so much! And yes, it's all about memories ;)**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

The hard kick to consciousness struck unexpectedly, always coming after the nightmares took over his dreams. It woke Dean up with a start. Only years of practice didn't allow his body the natural response it craved. He didn't flinch, didn't jerk awake with flying fists or sit up too fast.

Instead, he brought his five senses to alertness, trying to find his bearings inconspicuously. Dad had taught him and Sam to visualize the environment they're in before they showed any signs of awareness. That way, they'd be prepared for everything and less likely to get killed. As per usual, he started with the touch. The rough material underneath his fingertips was close to the sensation of the cheap motel sheets. A pillow was put under his head. He was lying on a bed.

When he felt a familiar presence sitting next to him, he skipped the other senses quickly and outright opened his eyes, wincing at the dull pain pulsating through his whole body.

"Cas?" he rasped, as the angel came into view, ever the silent guardian, towering over him.

Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder. It was hot, burning through the layers of clothing, grounding him. "Yes, Dean, it's me. You are safe now."

Dean frowned in confusion; his thoughts distant, memories blurry. Cas' weirder-than-usual behavior unnerved him. "Yeah, okay… thanks, I, uh… I guess?"

He glanced around, immediately regretting the action as his vision started spinning, and a new, sharper pain exploded behind his eyelids. Cas inclined his head, studying him, which made Dean a whole lot more uncomfortable.

"You are in pain," the angel stated.

Dean opened his dry mouth to retort, "No shit, Sherlock," but Castiel was quicker. He had the palm of his left hand placed gently but firmly on Dean's brow within seconds, silencing the upcoming words.

Cas had done this for him so many times and yet, with Dean lying on the bed practically beneath the angel, feeling vulnerable and not liking it at all, the gesture seemed very intimate. It should have freaked him out, but Dean was too tired to give a damn. He tilted his head back, leaning shamelessly into the touch, seeking comfort, and closed his eyes. The hand on his shoulder came to rest lower, copying Cas' handprint he'd left there whilst getting Dean out of Hell. The prickling energy jolting between them at the contact was not something Dean only imagined. It was real… felt nice.

When Cas retreated the warm hand, Dean cleared his throat. He felt immensely better. The headache vanishing like it had never been there. "Uh, so what happened? Where're Sam and Benny?"

Wrinkles appeared on Cas' forehead, making him look sorrowful, though he didn't let it tarnish the clarity of his voice. "What do you remember, Dean?"

Dean worried his lower lip, thinking. "The—the witch… her saying something about buying herself some time… She told Sammy she had a gift for him… Where's Sam, Cas?" He tried to get up but the angel held him down. What the hell?

"He will be here in a moment. He and the vampire are alright."

"Oh… okay…" Dean scrubbed at his eyes. They still felt heavy and tired, despite Cas having him cured from the headache. "Cas, what the hell happened?"

The angel looked guilty and weary at the same time. That meant trouble. To confirm Dean's suspicion that something had gone terribly wrong, and leaving his stomach in knots, Cas seemed to have a hard time forcing himself to confess.

"I believe we experienced one of your memories," was what finally came out, and shook Dean to the core. His heartbeat quickened immediately. Cas' hand on him no longer felt reassuring. It became restricting, trapping him without any chance for escape. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Castiel wouldn't meet his eyes. He gripped him tightly, painfully, like he wasn't sure what to do with himself which was really freaking disturbing.

"_What do you mean?_" Dean repeated more firmly, his voice getting harsh in spite of his efforts to sound calm and uncaring, as if there was nothing to hide. He laughed inwardly, hysterically… _as if there was nothing to hide… _

The angel actually looked flustered after his outburst, and Dean wondered how far Cas could look into him right now… if he was aware of the swirling emotions, if he knew how much and why Dean was truly panicking. What if—

What if he saw right through him, all the way in?

"What do you see?" Dean whispered, terrified, fixing his eyes on the angel.

The blue of Cas' irises mellowed, became clear like a summer's sky. Cas leaned forward, opened his mouth, and Dean dreaded what he'd learn. How the angel viewed him, everything Cas knew. It had never occurred to him how important the answer was going to be for him before he'd asked. But now, when it was out there in plain sight, Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know. What if Cas saw everything horrible that hid inside him? He was an angel. He could do that.

"I don't see your life, Dean," Cas said, and Dean could breathe a little again. Then the angel had to ruin it when he added, "I see _you_."

That wasn't a victory. That was the worst he'd ever thought of himself laid bare for Cas' eyes. He looked at Dean and saw his faults, knew of the dirt and failures that were embedded deep in his soul.

How could he be aware of all that and still stay in the same room as Dean?

"Do you see it?" he asked, voice wavering.

Cas parted his lips, and Dean prepared himself mentally for the inevitable "Yes."

Before Cas could answer, a door slammed open, rescuing Dean from hearing the one thing he'd never wanted to hear. Sam burst into the room, looking furious. Benny went calmly after him, with no care for the world, closing the door again more cautiously.

Sam's eyes wandered once sharply around the room, settling on Cas. "What the hell, man? You can't just take off like that!"

Then he saw Dean was awake, and a new jungle of emotions started battling across his face. Worry, sorrow, guilt, anger, every emotion worse than the previous one, and Dean was in no condition to have the talk which he could see forming fast in his brother's head. Sam wanted to _know_ and Dean would be damned if he let him.

"So, Sammy. You got that bitch?" he asked, hoping to distract his brother. Sam's gaze shot to Castiel and in that exact moment, Dean knew he lost. His brother realized Cas had told Dean about the memory trip, and adding Dean's skittish behavior to the equation, Sammy put two and two together.

Anger won over his features as Sam stalked toward the bed.

Dean shook off Cas' hand and scrambled up. He swayed a little but managed to hold himself upright. He would not let Sam shout at him from above. He needed to feel in control for this conversation.

"What _the fuck_ was that, Dean?"

Dean winced. Swearing Sammy never meant anything good. "What do you mean?" he asked innocently. He saw Benny taking the far side of the room, watching the interaction with interest, yet from a safe distance. Bastard.

"_What do I mean?!_" Sam rounded on Dean, striding into his personal space.

Dean had to raise his head. Damn little brother was a giant now. He was looming over Dean, eyebrows knotting together, nostrils flaring, mouth slightly pouty with corners turned down. Dean's least favorite bitchface, one that usually preceded a hissy fit, and meant Sammy was seriously pissed. It sounded funny but really wasn't. And nothing good ever came out of it.

To top it all, Dean still didn't know of what memory they all talked about. He feared the worst but he couldn't afford to let his brain freeze or panic before he'd find out for sure.

"I mean you, your goddamn revolver _and your mouth!_" Sam answered his question with small angry droplets of spit landing on Dean's face.

Dean wiped them off with his sleeve, making a face. So the fuss was about this one particular memory. Not exactly the top of his life. He now at least understood why Sam was so angry. Dean would have gone ballistic was he ever to find out that Sammy had wanted to end himself, the word ballistic being a hard understatement.

Dean would tear the world apart, and find whoever was responsible then tear _them_ apart, only to bring them back from death to do it all over again. He would never let Sammy out of sight, and would give him one hell of a time for not ever telling Dean. He would yell at Sam for not trusting him enough.

He would do all that and more, and all the while feel like a huge disappointment, because he'd failed his brother, hadn't been able to protect him.

But that's not what happened here.

This wasn't about Sam. No. It wasn't about his faults, because Sammy had never done anything wrong. He just hadn't been there, had his own problems to take care of. And Dean had always respected the boundaries. He didn't understand them, but he let them be. It was Sam's wish.

Dean would never consider burdening his brother with some parts of his life. One person to know had been enough, and even he left. Realizing finally just how damaged Dean was, he simply went and never looked back, creating another invincible boundary. Because that's what people in Dean's life did all the time. They put distance between them and him. Nothing he did was ever good enough.

What if Sammy would leave him again when Dean told him? He couldn't risk it.

Schooling down his expression, he said, "Don't know what you're talking about, man." It was cheap but he had to try. Sue him.

Benny raised an eyebrow and Cas got that dissatisfied expression, telling him, "Lying isn't good for your soul." Dean crossed his arms defensively over the chest, holding out.

Sam ran a hand through his hair in one jerky frustrated move, tugging at the strands. "Unbelievable." Raising his head up to stare at the ceiling, looking like he was praying to God for patience, he made something like a half turn then got back into Dean's face. "Look me in the eyes and repeat it," he challenged.

Dean shuffled nervously on spot, quiet. He had always hated lying to Sammy, and truth be told, they had lied to each other often enough for him to start hating it even more. He promised himself not to ever do it again, especially after Benny, and the Amelia fake text, but… It was better this way for all of them, because this way, he wouldn't be abandoned by them. It was selfish, but Dean needed to have _someone_ in his life. He needed his brother, his friend. He needed Cas.

He wouldn't survive losing them and if all it took was one small lie, so be it. Hopefully, they would leave it at that.

That's why he did what his brother had asked for, facial expressions under tight control. "I don't know what you're talking about." His heart was thumping loudly, yelling _Liar! Liar!,_ but Dean couldn't open this can of worms. It would ruin him.

Benny snorted loudly in his corner and Dean shot the vampire a silencing glare. Cas stood up next to him, looking even more disappointed than moments ago, making Dean feel like the biggest scum. They all knew he was lying, that it hadn't been the witch's idea of a sick joke. Well, it had been a sick joke, just based on real events.

Benny had somehow been always able to tell when Dean was lying and when telling the truth, and Cas could read him like an open book. He saw into his mind and soul like they belonged to him. It was given they both knew he was bullshitting them.

Sammy though, Sammy didn't need to be a great observer or a freaking mentalist to see through his brother. He grew up with Dean. He _knew_ him. And now, he looked at Dean with the same disappointment as Cas did. Like Dean had deliberately hurt them and was stabbing into the open wounds just for kicks.

Dean gritted his teeth. Fuck them all. They had no right to make him feel guilty when he'd done nothing wrong but protected himself. It was his life, his decisions. He wouldn't let them poke in it. He wouldn't allow them to learn the truth and leave him.

Sam's eyes hardened. "You know what, Dean?" he said in a cold voice and Dean didn't like where this was heading. "The witch said this was my show. I don't think she'd stop with just one memory. I think that if I wanted to, I could see everything right now."

Dean was ready to deny adamantly that whatever they'd witnessed was in no way his memory when the rest of the words came to him. His eyes widened as opposed to Sam's. Cas tensed up and Benny moved closer.

"So you either tell me why you pulled the damn trigger or I find out on my own," Sam spat. He was beyond angry and Dean understood. He honestly did… but he couldn't. He couldn't tell him, them, and if Sam's theory proved to be right, he couldn't let him do it either.

"You're bluffing, you wouldn't do that." Dean tried desperately to play on Sammy's sense of sympathy but his brother didn't care. He was furious because he had to think that by killing himself, Dean had wanted to abandon him and dad. He had to think Dean didn't care about them.

It was in no way true, but Sam was blindsided by his rage, seeing only the revolver before his eyes.

"Watch me," Sam hissed, making a real promise out of a possibly empty threat.

Instantly, Cas placed himself between Dean and Sam like a protective shield with a harsh shove of his mojo. It made them both take a step backwards. "You shouldn't do it, Sam. If it's Dean's wish—"

Sam laughed bitterly and it sent shivers down Dean's spine. He rarely experienced his brother like this. It signaled seconds before he snapped. It meant arguing turned to blood, fighting. It meant leaving. Memories of the night Sam left for Stanford flooded Dean's head, making him dizzy. He couldn't let it happen again.

Benny neared Sam from behind, prepared for a fight, to protect Dean. It seemed like it was encoded into the vampire's blood to be there for Dean when he needed him. Dean wondered if he'd ever thanked him for it properly... probably not. He'd have to fix it, tell Benny just how much he appreciated their friendship. The vampire was the only person who'd never betrayed Dean, who always stood by his side, and never created the stupid boundaries. Even a whole year spent together, day and night, didn't drive him away. It's almost like he thought Dean was worth the effort.

"I should have expected you'd side with Dean," Sam bit out at Cas, and Dean had had enough. He sidestepped the angel and went up to Sam's face. A soft breeze over his skin signaled Cas' power tentatively reaching out to him. Dean ignored it.

"Cut the crap, Sam," he snapped. Sam shouldn't be venting his anger at Cas. It wasn't right. "I swear that if you as much as try to look at my memories again, we're done. I'll never forgive you." He was pressing his luck, he knew it, risking that Sam left sooner than later, but maybe, just maybe, the offensive strategy was going to work better.

Like a flash, Sam's eyes softened all of a sudden. "Is it that bad?" he asked gently, too fucking gently, and Dean realized he'd just thrown up the whole ignorance act into thin air. He was such a moron.

"Why, Dean?" Sam pushed. "Why would you do something so… _so stupid_?"

_Why…_ funny question. Like what he did could be explained by one sentence, one reason, and be done. Sammy thought that he'd ask, Dean would answer, and Sam would somehow magically deal with the _one _problem?

He didn't realize that it was Dean's whole freaking life that was the problem… the single reason consisting from hundreds of details. There were big events, tiny ones. They were all life-changing. He couldn't even put it in words, and Sam wanted to know why?

"You don't understand—"

"Then help me understand!"

"No," Dean shook his head. It was impossible to explain and more so, he didn't even want to. It was tempting, just to load off, but he had to keep in mind he did this so they wouldn't leave. It was important to stay quiet. "No, no…"

"What happened?" Sam demanded, and when Dean merely kept shaking his head and started retreating, he got more aggressive. "Was it because of the hunting? School? Girl?" Sam was cornering him with questions, firing off possibilities, scanning Dean's reactions to the suggestions with his sharp eyes. "Was it because of me? Did _dad _do something?"

Dean ran a hand over his face, chuckling darkly. "Don't be ridiculous."

Sam frowned angrily, all traces of the softness gone just as abruptly as they'd appeared. Mentioning their dad did that a lot, especially when they'd been kids. It had been pretty easy to make Sammy's blood boil. All it took was mentioning John Winchester.

"Yeah," Sam growled, "because dad was so perfect he'd never do anything to hurt us, right?"

Dean glared at his brother. "No, he wouldn't. He always did his best. He pushed us hard because he had to. Otherwise, we wouldn't survive a damn second out there."

"He shouldn't have even dragged us _out there_!" Sam countered. His opinion on what's best for children had always differed from their dad's. "We were kids! He should have settled down, he should have raised us like a _normal_ parent. Look at where it got you!"

He was referring to the fucking memory. "It wasn't his fault, okay?" Dean shouted. "And normal parents don't know about the monsters waiting to chew their little kids for a snack." They were fighting. When did that happen? They were good hours ago, bickering, teasing Cas. Why did everything have to go to hell every damn time? "Dad did it to protect us!"

"He did it for revenge!" Sam yelled. "He may have told us some crap about preparing or protecting us, but you know damn well he did it to kill that demon!"

Dean flinched. Touché. It hurt to hear it. "Just… shut up, Sam."

"So I don't shatter your perfect picture of him?"

"Sam," Cas warned, but was ignored.

Dean was quickly losing his temper. To argue was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had to defend their dad, when the man himself couldn't be here to do so… when he'd thrown away his life for Dean. "_My perfect picture of him?_" he snapped back. "You've just never appreciated what he did for us!"

In the corner of his vision, he saw Benny so close to Sam he could just reach out and grab for him effectively from behind. He didn't care for the threat. A vibrant rage was rising within his body, burning his insides like a white-hot metal. Sam's next words added oil to ignite the fire. It was an old argument and Sam had used it so many times Dean had lost count.

"Since I wasn't the good little son he wanted and always had in you, I had a different opinion on him!"

_Good little son, good little soldier, robot without a brain not able to function on his own without his father's orders._ Dean laughed, turning his back to Sam, rubbing his eyes. _Fuck. _In one swift motion he spun around and punched Sam square in the jaw with such power his brother stumbled a few steps back.

A stunned silence set in. The only noise Dean heard was his own harsh breathing. He ignored the pain of his knuckles. He waited. Sam kneaded his bruised skin, glaring at him with a final determination. And Dean realized too late what a huge mistake he'd just done.

"Fine, you want it this way?" Sam straightened up, never breaking eye contact with Dean. The room stilled, and the only things Dean could perceive were his brother's hazel orbs. Usually warm, they were so cold now, as Sam started saying with such a cruel precision directly to Dean, "I want to see everything important I don't know about you."

Then everything erupted into motion again. Dean saw Benny launching at Sam, while his head exploded in thousands of pictures, voices, feelings, all mingling together. It was too much. Just like before. He bent over, catching his head in a vice grip. He felt Cas' hands on him, guiding him toward the bed. The warm touch was the last thing he experienced before the darkness took over his mind. All that he'd tried so hard to forget came rushing back, laughing mockingly.

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**Please, be awesome and review!**


	4. Chapter 4

As promised, here's the next chapter. Hope you'll enjoy :)

**A/N:** To avoid confusions: When I'm writing scenes with Dean as a child and teenager, I'm visualizing Jensen Ackles (thus the blonde hair, etc.), not the actors that played him.

To catbean715: Thank you so much! I have the same opinion on Sam and even though I still like him as a character, I just like Dean more :D. And there will definitely be some yumminess in the future, just later than sooner, I'm afraid. I want the development between Dean and Cas to be something subtle that has always been there, but only now, it slowly starts to evolve and take shape.

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**CHAPTER FOUR**

Sam was fighting Benny off so at first he hadn't noticed the change. His body felt too light, feet no longer bearing his weight. The only real thing was Benny's fist connecting with his head, marking the other side of his bruised jaw. Sam cursed and punched back, disoriented. The vampire easily sidestepped him, ready for another go.

Sam moved just in time to avoid the next flying fist. "Dammit, stop!" he shouted.

Having more time, Sam would savor the thrill that his spontaneous, and honestly rash and ill-conceived plan, worked. He'd surely feel also incredibly guilty for betraying Dean's fragile trust. He was already becoming terrified of the consequences. What if Dean never forgave him? If he had the time, he could start freaking out.

He however didn't have the luxury, the vampire capturing Sam's whole attention on himself.

When Benny grinned like the predator he was, Sam wished Dean would finally see this true form of the monster. "Worried you can't get at me without a badass machete?"

Sam reached for his pocket knife that was, surprisingly, still on him. He briefly wondered how it was possible for the weapon to be there. Was it just part of his imagination? The knife seemed so real, just like the pocket it was in. He could feel the metal through the layer of cloth.

Benny spread his hands in invitation. "Wanna find out if I can kill ya inside Dean's head? See what happens."

Sam heard himself growl. He shot forth, but another's hand appeared in front of his chest, making him stop. "I would advise against that," Castiel said in a barely held calm voice. "It's possible that any harm done to our presences here can reflect upon the physical bodies."

Sam tore his eyes off of Benny and rubbed his hurting jaw carefully, stretching it. "So this is our minds here?"

"Minds is an inaccurate definition. This is closer to a transfer of one's inner being. My vessel, together with your bodies, is lying where it was left."

Sam frowned, processing the facts. "So, shouldn't you look like, you know, you instead of Jimmy?"

Castiel spared him a quick glance before looking away. "I am able to mask my true form, since your eyes would burn seeing it. I'm also currently leveling down my powers. They could cause damage to Dean's brain."

Sam wasn't sure he understood everything the angel said but he decided not to dwell on it too long. Even this small amount of information made his head hurt... which brought him to a question. How could he feel his head—and his poor jaw—hurting if he was only a presence here without any actual body?

That made his head hurt even more.

He looked at Cas for some kind of explanation but the angel was deliberately avoiding any eye contact. He was angry with Sam for doing this against Dean's will, but that was fine. Sam didn't need his blessing. Castiel would never understand the pain Sam felt from learning about the heartbreaking fragment of his brother's life that he'd not been aware of. It was like a stab in his back, and hurt much more than that.

"How come we're here with the princess?" Benny asked, temporarily giving up trying to rip Sam to shreds. Sam chose to ignore the nickname in favor of hearing the answer.

Cas seemed lost. "I don't know," he confessed. "Even the fact that we are able to relive these memories should be impossible. The structure of them is very realistic, and no witch should be able to achieve that with their powers."

"But she _was_ a witch, right?" Sam said.

Cas nodded. "I believe so, but with powers I've never heard of. It makes me wonder how she obtained them..."

"_Hey, watch it, runt!_" someone shouted, snapping them to attention. They'd been too busy with arguing and discussing the laws of memory travel, they'd completely shut out everything else.

So, only now did Sam look around. They were standing on a patch of grass, which was part of a shopping street buzzing with hustle of moving people. A low fence that enclosed the grass protected them from the crowds.

A boy had bumped into a man, getting nearly knocked down. The guy scolded him instead of making sure the kid was alright, though it didn't seem to matter to the boy. He merely waved his hand as an apology and continued in his journey indifferently.

Just as Sam took everything in, hunter instincts minding the smallest details—green awning at a coffee shop, marble fountain with a small mermaid gushing water down into a chalice, a girl with a lollipop sitting on a bench with her grandpa, kicking her feet up and down—a person, one of the many memory people, strode over the fence and onto the grass, going right through him. The man stepped in and out of Sam's body like he wasn't there, _because_ he wasn't there.

Sam didn't feel anything, no pain, nothing, but the shock from the simple fact that someone did that made him jump, ducking instinctively away, and colliding with Cas. The angel's solid arm steadied him, having an immediate calming effect that Sam very much appreciated.

"Thanks," he murmured, while his eyes searched for the boy who'd been shouted at. Sam's subconscious was urging him to follow the kid, telling him it had to be Dean.

Finding him in the swarm of people, he motioned for his two companions to follow, and, ignoring Cas calling his name, he started off after the kid. He cautiously stepped over the fence and dodged another seven people on his way, not wanting to have someone else coming through him again, and finally caught up with the boy. He sensed Cas and Benny at his back. Apparantly, curiosity won over their disapproval.

Around the corner, Sam inhaled the fresh aroma of coffee. He could taste it on his tongue like it were real, and Sam had to remind himself that it was just part of the memory, the surprisingly realistic memory, with laws even Cas wasn't able to explain. It should have set Sam on edge, turned on his alarms, but he was too preoccupied with savoring this beautiful part of Dean's past to worry.

It was a summer day. People sat outside at the rounded tables of a café, ordering hot drinks or milkshakes, driving teaspoons into glorious smelling cakes. The high clouds drifted across a clear blue sky, and Sam exposed his face for the sun rays to warm his cheeks.

"I still don't get it," he said aloud. "I can feel everything that's here, _smell_ it. But I'm not here?"

Cas was quiet for a very long time. Sam started to wonder if the angel had decided to ignore him as some sort of punishment. Just then, Castiel finally replied, "Like I said, the memories are very powerful…" He sounded disturbed.

The kid turned left and so did they. When the boy slowed down and then stopped altogether, hidden from the main street by a large, ancient tree, Sam was able to make sure it was really his brother. Startling green eyes, golden locks, too many freckles to count; yep, that was Dean. He couldn't be more than seven years old though. What was he doing alone on the street? Sam felt the familiar surge of disdain at their father for letting Dean out of sight when he was so young to protect himself.

Dean shoved his small hand into a pocket and took out a black leathered wallet. Smirking, he went through the contents, leaving everything but the money in, and threw the now useless wallet over his shoulder without a care. He smiled to himself while counting the bills, stuffing them into his jeans.

Benny laughed out loud and Sam glowered at him, finding the situation more horrifying than funny. His seven year old brother had been picking pockets. He should have been playing with other kids like Sam had always attempted to do when he was this age, not… aspiring towards a thieving career. That could have got him into serious trouble.

"It's not funny," he snapped at the vampire.

Benny immediately put on a solemn face. "Of course not." Now, he was deliberately making fun of Sam.

"Then why did you laugh?" Cas asked in all seriousness.

Benny adjusted his cap. "Oh, you heard that?" he said, amused, and turned back to Dean, who emerged from behind the tree.

Taking a walk down the main street, Dean approached a toy-shop's window, searching for something. He had to find it because he nodded to himself once before coming in. A doorbell rang, and Sam managed to squeeze in just before the door closed behind. Logically, Sam knew he'd be able to come through but the thought itself made him uncomfortable. Cas and Benny had apparently no problem with defying physical laws. They both stepped right through the glass of the window and the toys on display.

The room itself was full of dolls, models of cars, stuffed animals, kites, and much more, to the point of being almost crowded. Dean weaved his way through, eyes roaming over the shelves, stands and a table with a beautiful wooden train. He walked past it all, never lingering, hunting for the one thing he'd come here for.

When he stopped, it was to pick up a stuffed teddy bear from a shelf. He eyed the toy critically, fast-approving, and delivered it to an elderly clerk. He tugged out the stolen money and put them next to the stuffed toy. The man behind the cashier's desk smiled brightly at him. "Will that be all, young sir?" He was teasing Dean for his age and the fact he was here alone, buying a fluffy teddy bear.

Dean frowned, showing his dislike with the man joking on his expense. Nonetheless, he nodded. The man showed his teeth in another wide smile, taking the money while getting his cash box opened. "Not up for a little chat, I see," he commented while picking up some coins in return.

Dean shook his head. _No._

Sam furrowed his brow, trying to decipher what his brother was attempting to achieve with the non-talking thing.

"You don't look like the shy type," the clerk mused aloud, making Sam snort. Comparing Dean to someone shy was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard in a long time, if ever. "Was it always like this?" the man asked, and Dean shook his head again.

The clerk's eyes warmed, recognizing something in Dean's muteness that Sam didn't. He gave him the change. "Don't worry, it'll pass," he assured like he knew what was going on. Removing a bracelet from a small stand, he handed it over to Dean's palm, enclosing his fingers around the small hand. "Now, this is a gift from our shop. When you're grown enough and can talk again, you can put it on. Deal?"

Dean studied the bracelet before smiling at the man. Sam recognized the gift as one of Dean's bracelets he'd once worn.

"Dean didn't talk when he was a child," Castiel breathed in understanding.

Benny turned to him with crossed arms over his chest. "Come now, aren't you an almighty angel who knows everything?"

Cas didn't take his eyes off of little Dean, who wrapped his arms protectively around the teddy bear, and beamed at the clerk. "Yes, but I am not to be privy to others lives. I must confess I wanted to… take a peek, as you would say, but Dean told me to mind people's privacy. So I did."

Benny arched his eyebrows in amusement. "And you listened to him? Just like that? Damn you've got it bad."

Castiel's demeanor turned irritated. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't."

Sam's lips twitched up. At least he wasn't the only one to see the sometimes blind loyalty the angel had in Dean. The vampire noticed as well.

He heard the doorbell clink again and the world around him faded, turning into blackness. This time, he at least managed to brace himself for the squeeze that came next.

They cropped up in a shady motel room. After the bright, colorful day, this place was like a hard shove back into reality; dark and shabby, like the majority of the places they had lived in.

A small bathroom mirror was positioned on a bed, leaning against a pillow so it stood without any other support. Dean sat cross-legged in front of it on the bed covers, hypnotizing his reflection. It looked like he'd wrenched the mirror off its hinges.

Sam took in the grey paint on the walls that was peeling off on most places. He also noticed the cold seeping through the improperly shut windows with musty drapes. It wasn't that someone didn't close them all the way. It was caused by the narrow gap in between the frame and the glass. It was simply a piss-poor job.

"Ain't that cute," Benny remarked, and Sam followed his gaze.

He saw his own toddler-ish version, maybe two, three-year old—Sam knew too little about kids to guess precisely—gnawing at the teddy bear Dean had bought in the previous memory. A trail of drool was running from the right corner of his mouth. It was anything but cute, although Sam guessed Benny's comment had nothing to do with affection, playing more on the sarcastic note.

"Hmm…" he grumbled, deciding to ignore the stupid vampire. He was busy with watching Dean, anyway.

His brother was repeatedly opening and closing his mouth, trying to formulate actual words, but nothing came out. By the point a cell phone rang on a dining table, he was getting frustrated, eyebrows knotting together in one angry line, his huge eyes narrowed to thin stripes.

Dean sighed and slid off the bed to get to the phone. Sam curiously peeked at the device. It was one of the better models that companies produced in eighties. Sam had once read somewhere that they weren't within the reach of most customers for the high prices, and he guessed that this one was bought from savings John could have possessed in the beginning of his hunter carrier. It would be a logical move from his father's perspective, to spend the money on the phone instead of a steady home or a school for his children.

After all, the man had always had his priorities, Sam thought bitterly.

The mobile phone was big and definitely impractical. The ringtone—if it could be called one—was irritating, quickly getting on his nerves. He was relieved when Dean answered the call, cutting the sound off.

He rushed to his brother to hear better when a familiar voice penetrated the quiet of the room. "John?"

"Bobby," Sam breathed, both happiness and sadness swelling in his heart. Bobby was long dead, and to hear him gruff and alive was bringing a wistful longing to be able to see him again.

Dean remained silent. He darted his eyes nervously around the room, his mouth hopelessly forming silent words.

Sam shot a glance toward Cas and Benny, who were standing a few feet away. They weren't leaning eagerly to the phone in order to listen to the conversation, though judging by the concentrated faces, they heard perfectly over the distance. Freaking supernatural creatures.

"Dean, is that you?" Bobby asked. He had to be accustomed to Dean not talking. John had to have been aware of the little condition as well, raising Sam and Dean, and Sam felt absurdly jealous for being the only one of their family who didn't know. He was left out, and it shouldn't hurt so much like it did.

After another long-stretched silence, filled by Dean tugging at his hair in frustration, Bobby sighed. "Okay, buddy, don't worry. One tap for yes, two for no. Understand?"

Dean started nodding but realized Bobby wouldn't know. He lied down on his side, watching Sam's small version tossing with the teddy up and down. He put his head onto the dirty tiled floor around the kitchenette. Once blue ceramic was nearly grey, ornamented with stains from food that had fallen down when previous short-termed owners cooked and didn't bother to clean afterwards. The motel's cleaning lady couldn't possibly be excited about her job as well...

Sam hurried to lie next to Dean, not minding the presence of Cas and Benny. If they had something to say to the enthusiasm with which Sam reacted, they should just voice it.

For a second, he expected the coldness of tiles to welcome him, but yet again, only the weird resistance carried his body. When they'd been in the alley of Dean's first memory, he didn't have time or the presence of mind to examine the physics of the memory. Now, he could give himself some time to poke around with his fingers and wiggle slightly with various body parts. It felt strange. Some force was keeping him from falling through the floor, but it was more than that. It was like a partly solid ground. It was there. It wasn't there.

Sam's head started hurting again. He stopped groping the floor, deciding he didn't need to understand the principals to relive what Dean experienced and wouldn't share. He sighed, seeing again Dean's stoic expression before his eyes. His brother had lied to him, so calmly. He had stood there, in front of Sam, and lied to his face.

Sam looked at his brother, dried lumps of grease getting in his line of sight. Gross.

Dean tapped once on the floor with his nail, putting the cellphone out so Bobby would hear.

"Good boy," the man praised him, and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam smirked, his mood lifting. The future characteristics of his brother were starting to show even in this young age. It was the first time Sam recognized _his_ Dean in this otherwise stranger to him. It made him absurdly happy.

He turned his head to the other side to see behind his back. Cas was watching them, or rather Dean, with an unusual fondness. If Sam had previously thought of Dean's vulnerability as weird, Cas' soft eyes were absolutely alien, from a different world.

Sam averted his gaze.

"Is your daddy there, kid?" Bobby asked.

Dean tapped twice. _No._

Bobby snorted. "No, of course not. Why would he be?"

Dean rubbed his freckled nose with a finger of his left hand. The rest of the arm was getting mashed under the side of his body. He balled up a little.

As if sensing the distress, Bobby hurried to apology. "Sorry kid. I know he's… _busy_, or whatever. I just wanted to check up on ya, s'all. D'you know when he comes back?"

The disdain was tangible in Bobby's voice. Just like Sam, he'd never agreed with John on how to raise children. Sam remembered the last time the two spoke to each other, his dad facing the barrel side of the Winchester rifle. It was a memorable moment. Sam could visualize the chilly autumn day as if it'd happened yesterday.

Dean had first tried to calm the two men down of course, ever the natural peacekeeper, but that time, it didn't help. Both John and Bobby were too worked up, angry beyond repair. Somehow, Dean's steady pleases only made matters worse.

Sam had been sent into the truck when the fight began. Dean quickly followed. That's when Bobby took out the rifle.

Sam snorted. It had been possibly the only time he'd seen something akin to fear in John Winchester's eyes.

Dean tapped twice on the tiles.

"Okay, buddy," Bobby said, "promise to call me if he ain't back in three hours."

Dean tapped once.

"Yeah… yeah, alright…" Bobby became silent for a moment. "D'you need anything?"

Twice. _No._

Bobby laughed warmly. "Sure, you have it under control."

Once. _Of course._

Bobby laughed again. "Okay then. Say hello to Sam for me, or y'know, wave at him."

Dean tapped once, smiling a little.

"Fine, buddy. See ya." With that, the call disconnected.

Dean didn't move for a long time. He watched small Sam trashing the teddy bear. When the child raised his head, sensing eyes on him, Dean's smile turned soft, loving. "Bobby says hi," he whispered in the tiniest voice, that Sam wouldn't have possibly caught if he hadn't been subconsciously waiting for it. He felt the corners of his mouth stretch impossibly wide, and turned to Cas and Benny. He wasn't sure what message he was sending them with the grin. Dean's quiet words sparked a triumph within him.

His brother was a fighter, always had been. Everything that was thrown under his feet, he strode over with a grace owned solely by him.

Yeah, Sam was proud of his big brother.

So what.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N (1): **Sorry for the long wait, guys. My beta was sick and had a lot of work to do. Hope you're still with me :)

**A/N (2): **I want to thank everyone who took time to review. It encourages me to write and always makes my day.

**To Amy:** Thank you! I'm glad you find little Dean adorable (so do I) ^^

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Katie made a big green bubble with the chewing gum in her mouth. It burst and deflated quickly, but so far, it was the biggest one she'd created in an hour of ceaseless work. She was ridiculously proud of it.

Her dad's motel was no hotel Ritz, and not many people tended to rent a room around eleven o'clock in the night. The flow of "customers" increased after midnight, when mostly bellied and bald men needed an undisturbed place to spend some quality time in their lady's (or man's) company.

Katie chewed thoroughly, to the point of her jaw starting aching, and attempted to surpass her record of the biggest bubble of the night.

Occasionally two women would rent a room but that happened rarely. Katie had always thought girls to be morally on a higher ground than boys, and this observation proved her right. She'd seen too many men with rings on their fingers, as they dragged a cheap-looking chick or a guy from the street behind, to lose every last naïve thought she could have possessed about the male part of the population.

The men coming here were pigs, cheating pigs.

As her next bubble—sadly no bigger than the previous—burst with a loud pop, a woman entered and approached her desk. Katie looked her up and down, immediately hating her. The woman looked like a model from the famous fashion magazine covers. She had auburn hair, huge, gravity-defying breasts (And that was so not fair!), skin tanned just right. No pores on face, no imperfections. Bitch.

Katie was a professional though. She smiled sweetly. "Hiya."

"Hi, sweetie," the woman replied, like Katie was some kid. She was old enough to vote, for Christ' sake!

"What can I do for you?"

The woman smoothed her miniskirt—a hooker, she was definitely a hooker—and looked around with open disgust, taking her time to answer. She ran a forefinger gracefully over Katie's desk, bringing it to her face for inspection. She grimaced, rubbing away some made-up specks of dust her mind supplied. "I am meeting with my friends here. One of them wears a hideous trench coat…"

When Katie just continued to chew on her gum loudly, the woman continued. "One wears a cap and suspenders… no?" she asked, clearly becoming irritated. "One of them is really tall, looks like he's in need of a hairdresser..."

"The last two've just rented a room here," Katie interrupted, remembering the two described guys. She had assumed they came here _together_. Hearing that this woman had to be their ordered hooker relieved Katie from tonight's nightmares. The pair would make a hell of a weird couple.

Not that the implanted vision of this threesome in her brain was any better.

"Sorry though, no dude in a trench coat," she said. And really? Three guys on one hooker? Katie was happy it wasn't in her job description to clean the rooms afterward. Poor old Pakistan lady who did that...

"Can you tell me the number of their room, honey?" the woman asked.

_If you shove the pet names down your throat and choke on them…_ Katie looked into her notebook. "Room 29."

The woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, frowning for a second like she could hear Katie's thoughts aloud. "Thank you," she purred, and walked away in the direction of the long hall where the rooms were situated, her hips swinging from side to side.

Katie cracked the next bubble with her teeth. She rubbed her cheek. It started itching. When it worsened, she took out her small cosmetic mirror from the handbag. Half of her face was covered with ugly red pimples. What the—

"Eww!"

* * *

"We should leave, Sam," Castiel said.

Sam stood up and towered over the angel to give himself some upper ground.

"This ain't right," Benny offered his opinion, for which Sam couldn't care less. Of course it was screwed and wrong. Of course it was gonna bite him in the ass later. But the feeling of rightness battled with much more powerful instincts to learn, to know, to find out. The fight hadn't even started properly and Sam's conscience was already losing a great deal.

"Listen, Cas," he said, while Dean joined little Sam to play with the teddy bear, "I know this is wrong, okay? _I know_. It's just—we're talking about Dean here. No chick flick moments, no open feelings. And… and I've always thought I knew everything about him. Suddenly, I'm looking at my big brother putting a damn revolver into his mouth and I just can't leave it like that. Dean won't ever tell me… I know that one for sure, and… I-I need to find out why he did it… so I can help him."

"You can't help him, Sam," Castiel insisted. "These moments already happened. It's in the past. Dean has made peace with it."

"Oh, did he?" Sam shot back. "You see into people, Cas. You tell me if Dean really is fine under the surface."

Castiel lowered his head. The silence spoke for him.

"I thought so…"

Sam looked at little Dean. He was happy, content with just playing with his baby brother. This was how Sam had always imagined Dean with him in the time Sam was too little to remember. Seeing it warmed his heart and broke it in halves simultaneously.

Dean was his one true family, always had been. Sure, he could be insufferable at times when he put his head into it. He was overly flirty and joked when the situation was too serious to be taken lightly. He'd make fun of Sam reading books, liking school. He'd tease him like big brothers did to the younger ones.

He ate too loudly, spoke with his mouth full. He could be rude and tactless.

He was also very compassionate. He was brave, smart and fun to be around. He did those stupid things like sacrificing himself for others, and didn't expect anything in return. He did it because he wanted to make this a better place. After everything they'd been through, he still believed in people.

He was loyal and generous. He loved his family above all.

He was all those things and more, and Sam had always adored him for them. He'd never spoken it aloud. How could he, when Winchesters were the tough brothers raised by an ex-marine and a hunter? Survival was more important than feelings.

Sam gritted his teeth. He would personally see to all Dean's hidden wounds, with or without his brother's consent. They had been ignoring their own lives for far too long.

But to heal the wounds he needed to locate them first.

Castiel followed his gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Sam read beneath his controlled expression. The angel craved to explore Dean's life as well. He was just too righteous to act on the desire.

"I can't stop you, Sam. You are in charge of the moment," Cas told him finally, "but I'm not supporting you. I want you to realize that what you're doing is wrong."

"This ain't gonna heal the kid's wounds," Benny said.

"It will reopen them."

Sam could have argued with that. He'd taken a few psychology classes while in Stanford, and although he was far from being a professional, all the books and their professor taught him that denying and ignoring the problem never did help. It made the problem grow to monstrous proportions. What made people deal was talking. They needed to confide in someone, maybe cry on their shoulder. Let it go.

Benny pursed his lips. "Dean's gonna be pissed."

That was more of a sound argument. It still didn't move Sam's resolve.

"I'm afraid he won't forgive us," Castiel said.

"He's gonna skin us alive," the vampire added.

"I doubt Dean will resort to such brutality."

Benny snorted. "You didn't see him the couple days after I found him. The kid was like a kitten one minute, the next sinking his claws right into yer—"

"_Shut it!_" Sam snapped. "Both of you." Cas tilted his head, irritated. Benny's jaw clenched. "This is my decision and I'll be the one to bear the consequences. It has nothing to do with you."

"'Cept you dragging us along," Benny drawled.

"Fine! You don't wanna be here, you don't have to." Sam concentrated all his thoughts on excluding the angel and vampire back to awareness. He tried everything he could have come up with, from visualizing the scenario to simply thinking it.

Nothing happened. Even saying it aloud didn't work. Dean still played with Sammy and the teddy bear, and Castiel and Benny stared at Sam like he'd gone crazy.

"Why don't it work?" Benny turned to Cas.

The angel didn't manage to answer in time. The memory changed abruptly. Sam was slowly getting used to the feeling of something crushing his body, making a small box of his flesh and bones only to stretch them again. It still made him shudder afterward.

This time, they appeared at a gas station. The Impala was parked at the far side. Sam saw their dad striding into the shop, body tense. What caught his attention was the stormy look on the man's face. Pissed off, and a lot.

"Why didn't it work?" Benny repeated the question, like nothing had interrupted them. Sam didn't look at Castiel so he couldn't tell why the angel hadn't answered. He himself ignored Benny in favor of getting soaked by the presence of his breathing father.

Benny gazed the way Sam's eyes were trained. "I figure you know him?"

"He's my dad."

It hurt to see him walking mere meters away, as alive as he could possibly be. Sam had said on many occasions he hated John Winchester's guts, but he'd never truly meant it of course. He'd always loved his dad, worshiped him as a child and respected him as an adult.

Somewhere along the way, he'd buried those feelings, showing resentment instead.

The last conversation they'd had was full of heated words, angry accusations. Sam wished he could have had the chance to speak with dad one more time. Just once, to tell him how much Sam regretted those things he'd said over the years, to make dad listen that not everything he did was right, to tell him how much he sometimes hurt him and Dean even if John had never seen it, to make peace.

And it's never going to happen, and yet there was so much Sam wanted to tell.

"Dean," Castiel whispered, walking after about nine-year-old Dean, who was tugging Sam's crying self toward the back restrooms. Little Sam was sobbing frantically as Dean pulled him behind the building. They stopped and Dean got to his knees in front of his little brother.

"Calm down, Sammy," he urged softly, stroking the kid's hair.

"I-I hate him, Dean, hate him!"

Dean flinched at the shrieked exclamation and so did Sam. He didn't need to guess about whom the child was complaining. It still surprised him though. He'd never realized his supposed hatred for dad took roots so deep in the past. He'd always thought the rebellion was fueled by hormones in his pubescent years and the need for independence.

"Come on, you don't mean it," Dean soothed, wiping the tears gently with his fingers.

Sammy moved from the reach, letting Dean's hand hang in midair, and stomped on his feet. "_I hate dad!_"

"Daddy issues, princess?" Benny mocked him.

Sam said nothing.

"He was so mean to you," his little version sobbed. "He threw out my Teddy."

Benny snickered. "What a bastard."

Sam had a vague recollection of being upset at dad and losing something precious when he was a kid; nothing specific, just the burning feeling of injustice done to him. Now, he knew what the precious thing had been, and was angry once again, quickly forgetting the bitter yet thrilling reaction to seeing dad alive. John was a master in not letting Sam harbor warm feelings toward him for longer than a couple of hours. Every damn time something ruined it. Selfish words, bad mood, moving, another hunt, orders.

Orders and manipulating their lives were John's specialties.

Orders, orders, orders. Like they didn't have brains, like they didn't know what was good for them.

Dean sighed. "I told you s'not your fault. And dad was right, anyway."

Sam let out a frustrated breath. Leave it to Dean to defend their father at all costs. He felt the familiar heat bubbling inside him, wiping all rational thought and leaving chaos behind. Small Sammy had to feel it already as well. His brows knotted together in one angry line.

"You know you couldn't hide Teddy forever. Dad had to find him sooner or later, and," Dean stopped any coming protests when little Sam opened his mouth, "like dad said, we shouldn't steal people's money."

Sam snorted. "Unbelievable," he complained to Cas and Benny. "So hustling and credit card frauds are fine, but Dean getting money to buy me a freaking teddy bear just won't do."

Castiel cocked his head. "Stealing is a sin."

"Since when do you care about that?" Sam asked harshly, and Cas said nothing more. It was an unfair and a low blow, but Sam was happy in his petty victory. He wouldn't have any angel judge them—Dean—for their lives. Especially Castiel, who had committed too many mistakes himself to start pointing out theirs. "Dean was a kid. He didn't know of any other way to get the money. If dad didn't like him doing it, he shouldn't have taught us _how_ to do it. But he did, and now he punishes us for it?"

"It was a lesson for me," Dean said apologetically, making little Sam pout.

"So it's your fault?" he whined, and Sam wanted to smack his past self over the head when Dean's eyes got that haunted look he knew so well. These moments had formed Dean's badly hidden low self-confidence, and he hated himself for putting parts of the thoughts in his brother's head.

"I guess…" Dean dropped his eyes, hypnotizing the ground. It was right there. Sam saw it more clearly than at all times over the past years. The delicate squeeze of fingers on Sammy's shoulder, the bowed posture, head lowered down. It all screamed remorse and self-loathing, and Sammy just stood there, lashing out at everyone in reach for losing his plaything.

Sam scrubbed his face roughly, feeling the growing stubble. He wanted to materialize and hug this kid version of his brother, never let go, tell him over and over again that whatever Dean perceived as his fault was nonsense. Tell it to him till his brother finally understood.

Dean pulled himself together and rose up. "Come on, Sammy. We gotta hurry before dad's done shopping."

They started toward the restroom's door when a shadow loomed over their forms.

Sam spun around to see a man coming up to the kids. He'd been so engrossed in Dean and his younger self he'd failed to notice the approaching guy. He stepped away instinctively before the man would go right through him.

Glancing behind the guy, Sam saw a parked truck. Judging by the matching logo on its side with the man's baseball cap placed askew on his head, he was the driver. His deep-set eyes were shadowed, untrustworthy, focused on Dean. Thin lips curved in an ugly smirk.

"Hello there," he leered, and it sent creeps down Sam's spine. Castiel rounded on the man, glowering at him, but of course the guy didn't react in any way. They were not supposed to be here.

Dean jumped slightly but hid the shock pretty quickly. He ignored the man, continuing in their way. All the trucker needed were three long steps to get in front of Dean and block his path. "I said hello."

Sam heard a grinding sound and when he looked, Benny had all his vampire teeth out and was snarling at the trucker. It reminded Sam of a dog, growling at the intruder, someone dangerous; someone whom the dog was ready to rip into shreds for trespassing onto his territory.

Dean pushed little Sam behind his back protectively. Sammy gripped the hem of his brother's t-shirt.

"Yeah, we heard you," Dean replied dryly, and the man grinned. He made a step forward. Dean backed away. The man's grin widened.

"What are his intentions?" Castiel asked, and Sam had one crazy moment where he had to fight the urge to laugh. Thankfully, he didn't need to explain why this scene evoked the craving for blood and violence in them all. However slowly, Cas still seemed to be perfectly capable of putting the pieces together even without Sam's help. His face turned darker each second the truck driver kept advancing on Dean.

"You're a cute little thing, ya'know that?" He reached out to touch Dean's nose and the boy shrank away, retreating all the while backwards, dragging Sammy with him.

The trucker closed the distance easily. "Come now, don't be shy."

Sam clenched his hands into tight fists. He gazed behind his back. Where the hell was dad when they needed him?

"Gotcha adorable freckles," the trucker sighed dreamily. Sam was ready to crack the fucker's head against the wall. He dug his fingernails into the palms. He could do nothing, at all. This here had already happened. It had already happened to Dean. There was nothing whatsoever to do to change it.

Sam hadn't felt this helpless in a long, long time. He wanted to kill the bastard right here, now, and he couldn't, which was so fucking frustrating—

"_Dean!_"

Sam had never been so glad to hear his dad's voice. He turned to see John Winchester shaking with fury. Dad's face was murderous. He had this one reserved solely for monsters. Now, it was aimed at the truck driver. Sam exhaled in relief.

"Dean, take your brother to the car," dad ordered, and when Dean didn't instantly obey, he shouted, "_Now!_" making Sammy cry harder. It was odd that Sam didn't remember this particular memory. He had been old enough and the scene was intense. He should have remembered it. Was it possible he'd somehow suppressed the memory? It seemed like a solution a kid would come up with if facing something they didn't understand and that equally terrified them.

Dean grabbed little Sam and pushed him toward the Impala without a question.

Sam was torn between following Dean to make sure he was alright and staying to see dad beating the crap out of the pervert. In the end, he really had no choice, though. These memories were about Dean. If Sam stayed behind, he could miss something vital of Dean's life, as his brother saw it.

So he followed Dean, Cas and Benny tightly behind, glancing over his shoulder. He was eager to get a glimpse of dad, but the two men were hidden behind the corner from prying eyes.

"You remember this one?" Benny gritted through his now human teeth.

Sam shook his head. He wasn't in a condition to answer properly.

"I think I understand what happened," Cas said after a moment of silence. Sam stared at him, hard. Was he for real? For a thousands-year-old angel, Cas could behave really… what, ignorantly… innocently? Sam took a closer look. The angel's body was rigid, unleashed power crackling through the air around him, Cas knew what had taken place here. He just didn't understand how a human being was able to be this… twisted.

Sam didn't either.

He turned his gaze away, watching as Dean comforted little Sammy. One knee on the asphalt, hugging the life out of his brother while whispering soothing nonsenses in his ear. Dammit, it was Dean who needed comfort, not this crybaby that Sam had apparently been.

Their dad returned with a resolute pace in his stride. His knuckles were bruised, painted with blood.

"Dad?"

"Not my blood," John retorted curtly, using a harsh tone which certainly made Dean believe he was the one at fault. Again. Sam cursed their father in his head for the hundredth time.

John assessed Dean critically, eyeing him up and down, a cold scrutiny that made Dean fidget uneasily. Dad either didn't notice or simply ignored the signs of his son's discomfort. "We're cutting your hair when we get to the motel. They're too long. We'll also intensify your and Sammy's training."

Dean blinked, looking lost and confused as hell.

"No questions," dad snapped, massaging his bruised knuckles. "Now you two get inside the damn car."

Dean's soft "Yes, sir." was the last thing Sam heard from this memory.

* * *

Lena paused at the door. The two tin numbers were announcing the room's number "29". Hearing no sound inside, she entered. Lena had prepared herself for any sort of complications but was delighted to see all four men unconscious and blissfully unaware of the dangers creeping out of the shadows. Dean Winchester was lying on a bed with feet fallen over the edge, the angel half on top of him, covering him like a protecting shield. Sam Winchester and the vampire—that had so stupidly refused her a few days ago—were sprawled on the floor, limbs spread in weird angles.

She knelt down beside Sam and reached inside the breast pocket of his highly old-fashioned shirt. He would easily pass as a farmer boy with that look. She ran her other hand through Sam's hair. The boy really needed a hairdresser.

A small, light coin made a contact with her fingers, and she took it out. This one was a very helpful kind of her magic tools, Lena's favorite. It served her good like the GPS humans were so fond of, although a little more inaccurate. When she concentrated, Lena could determine how far the coin was and in which direction she should head to find it.

She patted Sam's other pocket, snatching out a cellphone, and dialed a memorized number. Waiting for the man to pick up, she didn't give him any chance to speak then, going right down to business. "I have a deal for you."

The king was quiet, surely trying to place Lena's voice. He remembered. "Oh, really, honey? This is how we open a conversation?"

Lena rolled her eyes, waited. She wasn't in the mood for pleasantries, nor did she have the time.

"You spoil my fun, darling, but fine, tell me more," the king said.

She grinned. Crowley had always known how to make business.

* * *

**Next chapter will be up in a couple of days.**

**Don't forget to review! :)**


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